I continue to dig through the layers on my computer. This is like an archaeological dig.
Here’s a snip from a letter to my writer’s group, written on Thursday, Dec. 22nd of the year I turned 50, so 1994:
I saw my book mentioned in Quill & Quire (the publishers’ and librarians’ rag) yesterday: so it’s true, it’s really going to happen. I’m starting to get little notes from here and there, from friends and acquaintances: congrats. That’s nice. God, there might even be reviews, interviews. What then?!! The first step my anxiety has taken is to examine my nails, my teeth and my hair. Can I be seen in public? Why, at age 50, do I have pimples? What justice is there in the world?
TMI! I promise that the next bits I share here will have nothing to do with facial blemishes.
