I noticed

pride wknd.  good writers, some the best I know, are failing to find publishers for good work.  really sharp and excellent young writers are losing interest in trying to publish at all; they’re finding other ways to have art in their lives.  I idolized the editor I interned for my last year in college, who is now the biggest of all wigs in nyc.  she was brilliant and passionate and I am sure she still is.  I last saw her about ten years ago when I was in a terrible place in my life and am too embarrassed to try to figure out how to reconnect now that I am what I am (better!).  I remember I wore a terrible yellow sweater from the 80’s that I’d kept for the yarn b/c at least it was clean.  I asked her, (back when I was interning, slipping her cigarettes at parties in soho) as she was explaining to me that viking/penguin would be out of business if not for stephen king, if she thought that good work would find recognition and she said yes it would.  I couldn’t see how it was possible, even then, but I believed her the way I believed all the exciting brilliant people I knew, giving them credit for knowing more than me for reasons I might not yet understand (not so far but perhaps still distinct from copping out of having my own convictions).  I wonder if she would say the same thing now.  but maybe from where she sits it really does look like that, because if anything crosses her path that she loves she can go ahead and recognize it.  but I wonder what does look like a gem from that angle.

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