This one goes out to Annie, Abed, April, and Chris
I'm putting this here just in case I ever start to worry about the worth of spending my life studying and creating literature:
Watching characters grow is the most important thing I can do for myself. Fiction is not just a matter of entertainment for me, it is a way for me to find my center when I have been knocked off kilter. It's a way for me to ( Read more... )
Watching characters grow is the most important thing I can do for myself. Fiction is not just a matter of entertainment for me, it is a way for me to find my center when I have been knocked off kilter. It's a way for me to ( Read more... )
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The last thing I want to tell you in this part is about my desk. For years I dreamed of having the sort of massive oak slab that would dominate a room -- no more child's desk in a trailer laundry-closet, no more cramped kneehole in a rented house. In 1981 I got the one I wanted and placed it in the middle of a spacious, skylighted study (it's a converted stable loft at the rear of the house). For six years I sat behind that desk either drunk or wrecked out of my mind, like a ship's captain in charge of a voyage to nowhere.
A year or two after I sobered up, I got rid of that monstrosity and put in a living-room suite where it had been, picking out the pieces and a nice Turkish rug with my wife's help. ... I got another desk -- it's handmade, beautiful, and half the size of the T. rex desk. I put it at the far west end of the office, in a corner under the eave. ... I'm sitting under it now, a fifty-three-year-old man with bad eyes, a gimp leg, and no hangover. I'm doing what I know how to do, and as ( ... )
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