Show notes
Every so often, a conversation develops a life of its own. This was one of those occasions.
My guest is Jenna Stocker—writer, wife, mother, Marine Corps veteran, and a thoughtful observer of American life whose work has appeared in the Daily Wire, National Review, The Federalist, and elsewhere. We begin with her recent Daily Wire essay on iconic Americana and ask whether the independent, adventurous spirit that once defined this country can still be recovered. Along the way, we explore memory, gratitude, optimism, and what it means to preserve the best of a civilization without merely living in nostalgia.
From there, the conversation turns to the craft of writing itself. Why do writers continue answering the call of the page despite rejection, obscurity, and the suspicion that their words may vanish into the wind? And then, after the interview was supposedly over, two writers simply kept talking. We compared influences, shared the books and ideas that have shaped us, and reflected on the curious vocation of putting thoughts into words. The microphones, as it turned out, were still recording. I think you'll be glad they were.
My guest is Jenna Stocker—writer, wife, mother, Marine Corps veteran, and a thoughtful observer of American life whose work has appeared in the Daily Wire, National Review, The Federalist, and elsewhere. We begin with her recent Daily Wire essay on iconic Americana and ask whether the independent, adventurous spirit that once defined this country can still be recovered. Along the way, we explore memory, gratitude, optimism, and what it means to preserve the best of a civilization without merely living in nostalgia.
From there, the conversation turns to the craft of writing itself. Why do writers continue answering the call of the page despite rejection, obscurity, and the suspicion that their words may vanish into the wind? And then, after the interview was supposedly over, two writers simply kept talking. We compared influences, shared the books and ideas that have shaped us, and reflected on the curious vocation of putting thoughts into words. The microphones, as it turned out, were still recording. I think you'll be glad they were.