I am aware that I use this blog primarily as a place to work out my problems and give voice to the exquisite agony of writing and publishing. And that I indulge a particular kind of melancholy that infuses much of my day and relationship to writing and to art. But over the years I’ve had some peak days that I would be remiss in not mentioning. When I got my first promotion, when I received the Tony Godwin prize for editors under 30. (Yes, I was once under thirty.) When my author and friend Kim Wozencraft got a million dollar film deal for her first novel and we went to the Brasserie and ate steak and drank martinis. (Later at the office, I puked and fell asleep under my desk.) When two books I had edited (Prozac Nation and Autobiography of a Face) were well reviewed on the same page of the New York Times Book Review and both of their careers took off (both books still in print). Working with Temple Grandin. Selling my own book and buying a Cartier Tank watch. And yesterday at the BEA.
Neil Young and Patti Smith in conversation at the BEA in front of 1,300 booksellers and publishing people and book lovers. I got to sit right up front, hang in the green room, go in Patti’s limo and touch Neil’s poncho. They were amazing, funny, warm, sweet, real. One story from the conversation: Neil talked about how his dad, a writer, typed on the third floor of their house every morning and that no one was allowed up there. So I went up all the time, he said, and my dad would say, Hi Windy, his nickname for being super talkative. I like to imagine that: a boy growing up in a house punctuated by the clacking of a typewriter. And a benevolent father.
Tell us about your peak days as a writer. (Tomorrow back to gloom and doom, I promise.)
Filed under: Uncategorized |