For a Monday I wasn’t as productive as I would have liked. Still, I got some writing done, both fiction and personal.
Lately, I’ve been reading the letters that writers like Fitzgerald and Sherwood Anderson wrote to their wives and I think that this is where some of their best writing was. It’s overwritten yes, but it’s good and when you read these letters, they move you. Most of these letters were written before they were famous and I wonder if they wrote these letters hoping they’d be found and published. Probably not, they were just good writers. If they were writing in the hopes the letters too would be published it would make me sick. There is only so much narcissism a person can take.