Letter

Saturday 1/15/22

This was a lot of work. 6500 words for this genre proposal. Here it is if you want to see it.

The Beatles book/pages and proposal is a huge mess. I was going through it today. It needs a lot of work. And it's not the kind of book anyone writes. None of these are. They're so different. And then there is the Billie Holiday proposal to do. More of a laborious grind, so some committee can look at it at a place that won't pay me even if they have me do it.

I go to bed at 11, I often start work before 4. Every day. Soul-raping, hellish grind, while I'm hated. I am not looking forward to busting my a---which is what I have to do--on Longer and There Is No Doubt for no point at all given where things stands, but that's where it's at. It's bad right now. I have to keep trying to get as many books out, as quickly as possible.

I don't say this with disrespect, Peter, but you could never even imagine how much work I do every day, on dozens and dozens of fronts. It's so many things at once, all while also trying to get past these bigots and fight this war I am in with everything against me.

By the way: I've now written 340 short stories since June 2018. And they won't let a single one of them come out, of course. I am creating entirely out of faith right now--that something will happen, and these will all be seen and get what they deserve. The audience, the recognition, the remuneration.

I will also be going through Cheer Pack again, and preparing a new edition of Dark March.

I went to a hockey game at BC yesterday. But mostly I sat in the stands reading a book from 1830 written by a Revolutionary War soldier about his experiences for an essay I'll write so that I might be able to publish it in July.

I should drink something for my blood pressure.