Duke Tate was born in July on one of the hottest days ever recorded. I hear half the flowers in the city died of heatstroke that day, but people planted stronger ones in their places. Growing up, his imagination had a lot of fuel from people. America has an ages old tradition of storytelling. Most of the stories he heard around campfires and at family reunions were humorous tales about the eccentricities that accompanies life in small towns. He remembered these stories and began to create his own. A saying goes, “Never let the truth interfere with a good story.” He always imagined there was a lot of truth to that, so he exaggerated true stories to make them more humorous and interesting. He attended the University of Mississippi where he heard and memorized more stories. There, he realized that everyone is a storyteller, writers just write stories down. He went to work for awhile and started to write some in his spare time.
While living in Santa Monica, California, he decided to write some of his Floridian stories down and make up some new ones. He never stopped writing and the result was his first novel called The Opaque Stones. He later discovered the building he was living in was a well-known oasis for writers. I guess he was once again, surrounded by stories and storytellers.