Eudora

The short story shelf. (okay, ONE of the short story shelves....)

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It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming of themselves like grass.     – Eudora Welty

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These books really don’t write themselves, do they.  I’m heading off to a quiet space with mine — WiFi off, laptop on — where I’ll be listening to Eudora, ignoring the news, and growing the grass.

Happy writing.  Happy reading.  I’ll see y’all back here in a few weeks.

 

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12 thoughts on “Eudora

  1. PM

    This is as it should be. I’m awaiting your book and looking forward to reading it. I will tweet and retweet you far and wide, a one-person pr machine. Happy Writing —

  2. macdougalstreetbaby

    I opened Wendy and The Lost Boys by Julie Salamon yesterday. For whatever reason, it made me think of you. Is it possible to be a biographer of your own memoir? I wonder if the distance helps the writing. I don’t know, something to think about, I suppose. Happy writing! We’ll miss you.

  3. lisahgolden

    You’ve been posting the best blogs, really getting the conversation started. It’s good to hear you’re taking that mojo and applying it to your memoir.

    Enjoy your hiatus. I’m going to go catch up on commenting/sharing your posts.

  4. Lyra

    Such treasures on that bookshelf!
    I’d like to put in a request that when you next update us on your agent acceptance, you also post SEPARATELY on the gorilla hair and the swimsuit/swimming success. Merci, mon amie.
    Now go get those words, chase them down and wrangle them!

  5. Paul Lamb

    I’m looking toward a weekend as you describe soon. I hope your time offline is fruitful and fulfilling.

  6. Averil Dean

    I hate it when you leave us, but as it’s for a good cause I can’t complain too much. Have a wonderful time, and be sure to wear your bracelet.

  7. independentclause

    I love Eudora! Thanks for bringing her to mind. I’ve been living in the northern wastes too long. Lewis Nordan died and only my husband and I were sad; none of the other educated, reader-types I interact with had ever heard of him.

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