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Potpourri

I hope everyone saw The Bookwitch’s tribute to Pete Seeger, who turns 90 today.

It’s Sunday night in Chicago; I leave for New York early Monday.  I’ve been proofing galleys for my upcoming novel, Hardball, all weekend, and I’m bleary-eyed but now must pack.  I’m meeting with my publishers this week to talk about how to support the novel in the absence of book reviews and bookstores–a kind of Alice moment, or perhaps Edward Lear: As I was sitting in my chair, I saw the bottom wasn’t there, Nor legs nor back but I just sat, ignoring little things like that.

I hope to return to “Alchemy” soon.  I seem to spend all my waking hours working, either on domestic projects or on work at hand .  Marcus Aurelius said, “Nowhere, either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble, do we retreat than into our own souls,” into what Melville thought of as “that quiet, grass-growing place” where a writer ought to work.  I need the time, the spaciousness, to find that grass-growing place so that I can bring Alchemy and a dozen other creative projects to life.  

YES, WE CAN!!!

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