Long Walk Home (North) - Author Bio

Author Bio
His own words:
I think we can safely blame it on Margaret D’Ascoli, though I suppose Henry Wadsworth Longfellow may bear some responsibility as well.

Mrs. D’Ascoli was my eighth grade English teacher, Longfellow was the author of—among other things—the epic poem, Evangeline, about which we had to write a critical essay. When the day came for the papers to be handed back, the class was awash in anxiety. Mrs. D’Ascoli was one tough cookie, and an even tougher grader. She walked through the aisles returning the essays to everyone but me, then went back to the front of the room and stood before the class until the rustle of papers ceased. Holding one last paper in her hand, she said, “As you know, I always give grades for both style and content. I have here a paper to which I have awarded not two, but three A’s: one for style, one for content, and one for something I cannot begin to explain to you. Then she handed me my essay. There was a silence like death, followed by excited whispers. I wanted to crawl into a hole and quietly die from embarrassment.

It wasn’t until later, on the walk home from school, that I felt excited, and it wasn’t because of the three A’s. It was because, at an age when you know with absolute certainty that you’re a totally worthless speck in the universe, I’d learned there was something I could do better than anyone else I knew: I could write.

Ever since then, writing’s been my “meal ticket.” It was my ticket out of a chaotic and sometimes frightening family in a steadily deteriorating neighborhood in Yonkers, just over the New York City border. It was my ticket to scholarships for an undergraduate degree in English, and then a graduate degree in journalism. It carried me through a series of jobs and ultimately, at the tender age of 30, to an appointed position in the Carter Administration. Much as I loved that job, one of the best things that ever happened to me was the election of Ronald Reagan, who promptly fired me and forced me to choose between holding a job and becoming an author. I chose the latter.

Over the years, I’ve written more than a dozen books, all non-fiction. Initially, they were about what might be called “progressive public policy issues.” Somewhere along the line, I also became a ghostwriter—for a President, a Vice-President, a famous mountaineer and explorer, a team of Everest climbers, a group of dinosaur-hunters, and a couple of pioneering doctors. I also wrote a series of off-the-beaten-track guidebooks to the place I love most in the world: Britain.

And I married. Twice. And divorced. Twice—though I remained friends with both of my ex-wives. I have an achingly wonderful son and a splendid grandson (yikes!) and daughter-in-law.

One last thing: If you Google “Will North” you won’t find any of my nonfiction books. “North” is my pen name. I’m not trying to be mysterious; my real surname is nearly unpronounceable unless you have a lisp, and virtually impossible to remember—not a good thing for a novelist. (From the author's website.)