|Ah, the beckoning, the terror of the blank page.|
I can happily write in this space every day because I feel as if I'm among friends and it is so easy just to talk to you. Then there was the book. It was a long, solitary exercise in discipline and organization. The interviews were fun -- I got up, got dressed and got out there -- and I learned all sorts of great tricks and secrets. Most days the writing was not traumatic and I knew of course that I would have talented editors on the back end buffing everything up into bright, shiny prose.
|Imagine opening your favorite magazine and finding this.|
Now that I've made this pitiful confession, it was simply to tell you that I must concentrate on my article and not, unfortunately, on having a real conversation with you today.
A demain my very, very, very dear friends.