I’m trying to
transition from fours days spent absorbing serious writers’ thoughts about
deep, profound stuff and getting back in the swing of pitching stories,
prepping sexy shoots and posting to my neglected blog. My various selves are a
feeling a bit disparate at the moment.
On a KWLS related note, a section of the new
book that Ian McEwan read from (one
part in a morning session, the other, much racier part in the afternoon) is
online at the New Yorker here.
It’s a lovely and excruciating tale.
Comments