I may have even shredded them… which, for an historian, I guess makes me a terrible person and even a vandal. (That said, thinking about it now I may have a paper copy of Distances in a box in the Catskills, where I had finished writing it in 2015.)
Olhão, on Portugal’s Algarve coast, is more than worth a visit if one ever gets a chance. We have stayed here these last few days…
Suddenly, I was back in the 1990s again. It was almost eerie. Immediately I remembered another Meg Ryan film I’d seen in 1995… and someone else’s then reaction to it…
Because once the last word is on the page, well, that’s it. Done. You have become just someone who has written a book. That was then. What are you doing now?
I sense I am approaching *that* time for a soon to be new book where I sit back and take stock of the draft as a whole. Soon tweaking with “this and that” begins. I’ve learned that in some ways this is also the toughest time.
As they say, Oh, My, god. I have a new novel I want to finish. This is not exactly great.
Hmm, I suspect I don’t really take these social media writer things seriously enough. 😉
Television is a form of mass theater that is sent invisibly into homes and viewed on an object that looks something like a window and is hung on a wall; whilst Twitter is best characterized to you I think as appearing on interactive television we call “the internet” and it much resembles the graffiti one sees scrawled by angry mobs anonymously on walls in Paris and in Rome.
A mere seven years ago, in early 2012, most of you had never heard of me and I knew of almost NONE of you (who did not know me already in real life).
My cousin in New Jersey, prompted I gather from all of our exchanges about her daughter’s writings, emailed me that she had the other day bought ALL of my novels.
As I sat at the man’s desk, my father-in-law next to me, as she stood a couple of feet away she asked next: “Really? What are you doing here?”
Back to the actual point to the day: Kids having access to books. A love of reading is one of the best habits one can instill in a child. I saw my parents regularly reading for relaxation.
Seriously, I’m not inherently anti-social or excessively aloof, or inclined to hermit-hood. I’ve been told (more than once) in person that I’m actually a pleasant person. I’m also “socially” NOT my uncle.
The first time I ever mentioned – back in university nearly three decades ago – that I was interested in visiting France, my mother turned to me and was immediately harshly negative: “Are you nuts? They hate us.”