Friendly correspondence, or, I can't win.
Max:
Every time you change this I get even more confused. "My seconds will call on you" simply makes no sense, unless you're veering off into some kind of Faulknerian time-obsession. What next? A narrator who smashes clocks? Not a direction I think you should go with this book. And come to think of it, maybe this chapter should come out entirely -- not sure quite what purpose it serves in the current narrative, except as a showcase for the sentence, "Wrapped and rapt, Randolphe rapped on the Lieutenant's large, warped wood door, the brass knocker cool and noncommittal in his mittened main," and frankly, I think we need to have a talk about that little gem, too. Make an appointment with my asst. as soon as you get this message.
When's-the-last-time-you-heard-Hemingway-alliterate?,
[Name omitted]
Every time you change this I get even more confused. "My seconds will call on you" simply makes no sense, unless you're veering off into some kind of Faulknerian time-obsession. What next? A narrator who smashes clocks? Not a direction I think you should go with this book. And come to think of it, maybe this chapter should come out entirely -- not sure quite what purpose it serves in the current narrative, except as a showcase for the sentence, "Wrapped and rapt, Randolphe rapped on the Lieutenant's large, warped wood door, the brass knocker cool and noncommittal in his mittened main," and frankly, I think we need to have a talk about that little gem, too. Make an appointment with my asst. as soon as you get this message.
When's-the-last-time-you-heard-Hemingway-alliterate?,
[Name omitted]