EARL'SONLINENOVEL

EARL R. STONEBRIDGE'S NEW NOVEL WILL BE WRITTEN ON LINE, a virtual literary experience of a ficticious nature.

Introduction and Foreward by Robert L. Huffstutter

"That's right," stated Earl R. Stonebridge, "I have decided to invite the public to assist me in this novel. It's all about America and Americans, so why not get some one-on-one advice as I write," Earl continued.

Why Earl chose the night before Christmas to begin this literary masterpiece is a question that Earl believes should be easy enough for readers to understand. "It is probably one of the most introspective days of the year," he said. "It's a day that turns into an evening when memories virtually come to life, thus it's a perfect opening scene, the night before Christmas. It's a night most everyone can identify with regardless of their present station in life, regardless of their age or economical status."

"Sure, that's the title, but that doesn't mean it really IS the one we are supposed to write. Don't let the title throw you off balance," Earl laughed while signing an unauthorized biography of his life and times at a Manhattan Barnes and Noble in October."The only reason I chose to cooperate with the author is that she got it half-right, she made up the rest, but it's fun to read, so what the hell," Earl told Time Magazine.

"SOONER OR LATER, WE WILL ALL WRITE THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL, THE ONE THAT HAS BEEN ON OUR MIND SINCE THE DAY WE LEFT HOME..." By Earl R. Stonebridge.

       THE LONG DUSTY   ROAD BACK HOME

                               Chapter One

           You remember that day when you had all your stuff together, packed and folded into your deceased grandfather's tan suitcase, worn on the corners enough to testify to its genuine leather construction, the handle thick and comfortable and easy enough to grip. It was the handle that felt warm, almost alive with an anxious desire to get out of the attic where it had been left alone since October 1945. But this novel is not about you; it's not about me. It is about nobody I knew until recently, a man named Gentry Lionel Smith, a retired Navy Captain who never spent a day at Annapolis.

                                 Chapter Two

       Gentry and I met at a public library by chance in 1980. He was a distinguished looking gentleman with thick white hair and a mustache to match; his eyes were wrinkled by years of looking through sunlight at various horizons and by a lack of sleep when the sun wasn't shining. What book was he reading when we met? He wasn't reading, he was smoking outside the main entrance of the library. I can't remember whether smoking ordinances were in effect then, but he, like myself, chose to smoke outside to keep from polluting the air with our pipe smoke.

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