I work on my book in sections. Right now I’m slogging through the third part — filling in gaps, fleshing out scenes, tinkering with dialogue. I move ahead five, maybe ten, pages a week. Every few days I print out the most recent version and promise myself I won’t change another word until I’ve pushed to the end of, for . . .
Sad news this morning: the great Muriel Spark, author of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie and
On Saturday I dragged Max and some friends to Edgar Allan Poe’s cottage in the Bronx. No sooner did we enter Poe Park than Kevin and I were drawn to this bulbous, warty tree (at right of photo), which looks even more diseased up-close. We moved toward it simultaneously and started fondling its lumps. “It looks like someone stuck . . .