When I was a child I loved Edgar Allan Poe. One of my favourite stories was The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether. I've always been a sucker for a twist ending and that one has a doozey. Stories like The Black Cat and The Tell Tale Heart must have taken up residency in me as I find myself wanting to write the gruesome tale more and more. Poe was a fabulous writer and now is often described as the father of the thriller and detective tale, but like many writers he died penniless. He had a difficult life often so poor he could not afford heat or food.
This year marks the 200th anniversary of Poe's birth and in Baltimore, his birth place and mine, they held a funeral for him. His original funeral lasted only three minutes and was attended by just a few people. This time around they had to hold two funerals to cater for all of the people who wanted to attend.
I suppose it is a tribute and that's a good thing, but perhaps the better tribute is to not allow equally talented writers of today suffer a similar fate. It is not written in stone that poverty and writing must go hand in hand - is it?