Writer Rick Bragg Brings Distinctive Southern Style to Augusta

There’s something about a conversation with Rick Bragg that feels like reading his writing all over again. Perhaps it is the way the conversation – easy and amiable – consistently and persistently flows in and out the eddies of his well-documented interests. Family. Home. The South. Writing. 

Perhaps the distinctive rhythms – honed in childhood and reflective of his northeast Alabama roots – migrate from the spoken to the written word. They are, after all, storytelling rhythms that amble when able, are distilled when required, and are appropriate whether discussing human rights or tomato sandwiches. He makes his stories feel, in the moment, essential. He is a writer who, although not always serious, takes writing – and stories – seriously. 

Rick Bragg will appear in conversation with award-winning Augusta novelist Brain Panowich on August 22 at the Grover C. Maxwell Performing Arts Theatre on the campus of Augusta University.  

Over the course of his career, the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer has lent his particular and eminently readable style to all manner of subject matter. He was in Oklahoma City after the 1995 bombing, cataloguing the physical and emotional damage of domestic terrorism. He was in Haiti in 1994, documenting a period of dramatic unrest and the complicated role  the United States military played as an occupying force. He also was in his mother’s kitchen, ruminating on the stories an Alabama dinner, home cooked and hot, tells.  

He is, by his own admission, a product of his environment and, unsurprisingly, proud of his roots. His up-by-the-bootstraps story has provided him fodder for many of his books – most notably “All Over But the Shoutin’.” He said there is real beauty in the cadences of Southern storytellers and, while never overt or intentional, hopes that some of that beauty is always evident in his work. 

“I hope that I am a writer whose roots are always firmly embedded in the South,” he said during a recent telephone interview. “But I’ve never tried to sound folksy or country. The way I see it, you just write cleanly and clearly – with seasoning.” 

It’s seasoning, Bragg says, that comes from experience. He was born into the hardships of abject poverty, amplified by an abusive father. For Bragg, writing was a means of escape, not from who he was, but from the limited opportunities his life and history may have held for him. He said he has only had two kinds of jobs – manual labor and writing. When asked why he chose to roll the dice and take a less certain path as, initially, a small town sports writer, he said the answer was relatively simple. 

“Writing was survival,” he said with a laugh. “I mean, nobody has ever had their brains knocked in by a swinging pine limb while looking for a metaphor.” 

Although often cited for his books – which include memoirs, biographies of musician Jerry Lee Lewis and captured American soldier Jessia Lynch, and cultural histories – Bragg remains a writer that shines because of his adaptability. He’s been a newspaper man – most notably for the New York Times – a columnist, and an educator. He is currently a professor, teaching writing, at the University of Alabama.  

He said that while teaching the fundamentals of writing remains important and bemoans the loss  of “that mean English teacher” across the educational landscape, he said it is fear – human and universal – that often proves to be the greatest impediment to writing. His job as an educator, he said, is teaching people to sidestep those anxieties. 

“You can paralyze yourself,” he said. “You can paralyze your mind by second-guessing what an editor or a reader will like. If you can free yourself of that, it is easier – but that can be hard to do.” 

The first step, he said, is to disavow yourself of the idea of finding unfettered creativity. That is, he said, a myth.  

“You hear that a lot,” he said. “Angels are supposed to sing and the muse is supposed to whisper in your ear. Well, the muse is a hairy little goat-like thing and it may be with you, but it is not always nice.” 

Bragg said that even now, with reams of writing behind him, he still often finds the prospect of sitting down and engaging with that hairy muse disheartening. For him, he said, it is the destination, not the journey. 

“Even if the muse is singing, you can still hate it,” he said. “It’s a slog so no, I don’t love writing.” 

“But what I do love, what I have always loved, is having written.”  

WHAT: An Evening of Southern Storytelling: Rick Bragg in Conversation with Brian Panowich 

WHERE: Grover C. Maxwell Performing Arts Theatre - Augusta University, Summerville Campus 

WHEN: 7 p.m. Friday, August 22. Door at 6:30 p.m. 

COST: $6 AU students, faculty, and staff with a JagCard, $10 AU alumni, $12 general, $10 seniors (60+), $10 active and retired military, $6 students 

For tickets and more information, click here.