![]() ![]() If I can turn my back on an idea, out there in the dark, if I can avoid opening the door to it, I won't even reach for a pencil.īut once in a while there's a great dynamite-burst of flying glass and brick and splinters through the front wall and someone stalks over the rubble, seizes me by the throat and gently says, "I will not let you go until you set me in words, on paper." That's how I met Illusions. Still, every summer or so I took my antique biplane out in the green-meadow seas of midwest America, flew passengers for three-dollar rides and began to feel an old tension again - there was something left to say, and I hadn't said it. Having starved for a while, the car repossessed and that sort of thing, it was sort of fun not to have to work to midnights. I answered then that I didn't have to write anything next, not a word, and that all my books together said everything that I had asked them to say. "what are you going to write next, Richard? After Jonathan, what?" ![]() ![]() It was a question I heard more than once, after Jonathan Seagull was published. ![]()
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