Some better than good news, though I won't share it so as not to hex it, even if this reticence might go against this period's mores (how jealous, how judgmental I was of that other writer who used to announce yet another 'latest success' via weekly emails - until I blocked it - but then went on to publish multiple books, and so it goes).
This secret is a writerly break, writing for a magazine I respect on musicians that I respect even more. So let us pray to the forgotten patron saint of our craft, Francis de Sales, who according to a very cute piece on the patron saint of writers and journalists, published in The Paris Review in 2014 (by Dan Piepenbring) is best known for his 1609 Introduction to the Devout Life. I especially liked this extract from this forgotten tract:
Picture to yourself a dark city, reeking with the flames of sulphur and brimstone, inhabited by citizens who cannot get forth.
Let us pray that my phone doesn't self-destruct at some inopportune moment during the interview; that it records okay, that I can distinguish the male voices; that I make sense when asking my questions, and don't speak too quickly and then that it all comes together, so that the editor offers me another chance and it continues.
Another article by the same author centres on a rare recording of Jean Rhys (a writer whose work makes me revert to adolescence, seeking out superlatives). Piepenbring, says that he believes the recording was made in 1979, the year of Rhys's death.
In the interview, she said: