English (United Kingdom)

https://curated-unify.zendy.io/wp-json/zendy-region/v1/featured_content/oa?rat=en

https://curated-unify.zendy.io/wp-json/zendy-region/v1/highlighted_journal/

Global: Zendy Plus annual

Presents the access of premium content as premium feature

Premium Content

Presents the keyphrase highlighting as premium feature

Keyphrase Highlighting

Presents the summarisation as premium feature

Summarisation

Insights

Presents the pdf analysis as premium feature

PDF Analysis

Presents the zaia usage as premium feature

ZAIA

Global: Zendy Tools annual

Global: Zendy Free Plan

Global: Zendy Tools monthly

Global: Zendy Plus monthly

I’ve never felt old enough to write a book of memoirs—until now, that is, since I’ll be 75 by the time this issue is mailed. And what would I call it? I considered: Out of Appalachia...and Back, but thought it and a dozen other titles didn’t sound enticing enough. Then Russ Cheatham, a writer friend, suggested Hotter Than a Pepper Sprout, a line from my song, “Jackson,” as recorded by Johnny Cash and June Carter. I argued that it sounded crass and commercial, not to mention egotistical. But Russ said, “It’s also catchy—one of the most recognizable lines in country music. It won a Grammy for Cash and Carter and, hey hoss, it will give you a springboard into your songwriting career.” For now, since I can’t think of anything better, I’ll use it as a working title. I’ve written chapters on how I went from picking coal in West Virginia to picking my brain in an office on Broadway, dropping a lot of names, but George Brosi and his staff of Berea College students chose the following segments from my Appalachian beginnings. There are no pepper sprouts here, but I bow to their wisdom and authority. Every writer needs a good editor.

Sometimes Life, Like Love, is Hotter than a Pepper Sprout