The American writer, novelist and essayist James Patterson, who died on Monday, was a prolific author and essay writer.
Patterson wrote more than 40 novels and nearly 50 short stories, and he was also an accomplished teacher and lecturer.
In 2017, Patterson received a MacArthur Fellowship for his work in teaching and scholarship, as well as a fellowship for his lifetime commitment to the arts.
Patterson was also known for his long-running radio and television series, The James Patterson Show.
He was the author of numerous short stories.
Here are some of his favorite essays: I was born in a town that was once a major factory, but I was taught that was in the past and the new factories came and went.
It was the middle of the 20th century.
When I was a teenager, my father and his friends started a small farm.
They made a lot of money.
They were doing well.
But as we were growing, they started cutting down trees and going out to work.
I wanted to live on my own, but my parents wouldn’t let me.
And so I came back to the village and began to build a small house.
As I was building the house, I saw a woman named Betty, who lived on the other side of the road.
I told my father, “I want to live next door to her.”
He was like, “You don’t have to.
But she can come out here and we can live.”
The first thing he did was give me a car and he told me, “Now you have to take care of her.”
So, I drove over to her and she had a house.
She had a car.
She was married and had a son.
I remember thinking, “It’s not a big deal.
But it’s a big house.”
I had a big dream.
I never got to go out and buy a house with the money I earned.
I didn’t know what to do with it.
I kept going to work, writing, reading, writing.
My writing wasn’t bad.
It wasn’t terrible.
But the writing was always bad, so it wasn’t very satisfying.
I started getting sick of the writing.
But I couldn’t write a lot because it was too hard to write.
I was writing a lot.
So I had to go back to work at a farm and I got sick of writing.
And I said, “My dad’s dead.”
So I stopped writing and started doing a lot more manual labor.
My mother started cooking.
I made my own bread and pasta.
I worked at a dairy farm.
I got my own tractor and went out to that farm.
My dad was always telling me, don’t give up.
I just kept going.
He had been a farmer, too.
And the more I did, the more he was telling me.
He said, I want you to be a farmer.
My parents were so proud of me, because I had no money and no clothes.
But my father said, you know, this is what I want for you.
He would take me to a field where I could put my hand on the crop and he would say, “Put it into the ground.
Let it grow.
Then I’ll give you money.”
And I would say no.
And my father would say it was a good thing.
And they’d let me do that.
I’m not going to give up the land.
I’ve got a job at the dairy farm, too, and I’m going to do everything I can to keep the family alive.
So my father kept telling me that.
And he was right.
And it’s one of the things I love most about my father.
He always told me to be patient.
He wanted me to go through life with confidence and to take my own time.
And when I would get a good idea about something, he would always tell me, just wait.
And then I would be on the right path.
He told me that it wasn’t that he was angry, but that he didn’t want to have to work so hard.
And we both worked.
He did a lot to help me through my childhood.
He taught me everything he knew.
My mom taught me how to make soup.
She cooked and she cleaned, too and she made a great cup of coffee.
My father taught me about the world.
He didn’t do a lot but he made a good living.
My uncle taught me to write poetry.
He used to go on trips with my father to New Orleans and I’d go on those trips.
He’d take me and I would learn to write poems and to write for him.
He showed me how.
He went to a lot, too many places, and was a big part of my life.
When he died, my mom said, we’ll never know how much we were really loved by him.
That’s why I have this beautiful book