Today we are well accustomed to having some of the most enduring names in American letters long associated with The New Yorker: John Updike, appearing there for nearly sixty years; E. B. White; James Thurber; John Cheever; Rachel Carson; John McPhee; and many more. However, The New Yorker was a newcomer in 1925.
Then Junot Diaz asked me a question: "What could you possibly write that would interest people?" This being a reference to my age, and possibly my closed-off suburban background. I know that it was not meant as an insult, but at the same time, how would he know if my writing could interest people just by looking at me?