was thinking about the commonplace experience of people meeting the authors or artists whose stuff they love and finding in real life that person is a jerk, or whatever, not what they seem to be in their art. seems so obvious, but I hadn’t thought of it in these terms– though I use these terms a lot to think of or explain to students what’s so great about the page
is you get to be an editor of yourself, over time, and then present a coherent thing that is of you– without the jerkiness, without the stuttering ums– and with all the wisdom compassion intensity complexity etc that is either in you or that you can connect with– ET phone home finger–
but then in real life you are just your messy self. The diff btwn a good artist and any old person is that editing/accessing ability–
wonderful people in life are another ball of wax.