Nancy Nall Derringer
My rack card.
In movies about big-city columnists, there's always a moment where our hero stands on a corner and a bus passes by, emblazoned with an ad for their column. Those of us who wrote in smaller markets? We got rack cards for the vending machines. This was mine, but it was version 2.0. The first one misspelled my name. Yes, misspelled my name. "Null," if you're interested. Oh, and the artist added those earrings. The hair? Yet another of the Bad Perms of the '80s.
My rack card.
In movies about big-city columnists, there's always a moment where our hero stands on a corner and a bus passes by, emblazoned with an ad for their column. Those of us who wrote in smaller markets? We got rack cards for the vending machines. This was mine, but it was version 2.0. The first one misspelled my name. Yes, misspelled my name. "Null," if you're interested. Oh, and the artist added those earrings. The hair? Yet another of the Bad Perms of the '80s.