tweaver at imbolc.ucc.ie
Fri Oct 20 09:31:50 EDT 2000
OK. I phoned Laura Cecil, and got her daughter. The agent is on holiday. Doom.
So, er, I picked up the telephone *again* and phoned DWJ. She'll be changing
her number next, you mark my words. I must develop strength of character and
only write letters (or post queries on the official DWJ website). Sometimes,
time seems of the essence - and then I remind myself that part of the reason
I hate phones is the way they irrupt into your life replete with other people's
concerns. Email and letters you can handle at a leisurely pace. Phones say
"Here, now, pay attention to ME". & I am not worthy to do this to DWJ.
I was wrong. It wasn't a tour. Really. The publishers put her in "hard cars"
mostly and Sent Her Places. Edinburgh, Hay-on-Wye, London
Yes, aargh, Jennifer. We both missed it this time |-( But it wasn't signing,
chatting and direct promotion... it was Literary Stuff. Occasions. Probably
quite exclusive ones (although this is me and my dubious extrapolation again).
At one place, she talked about CS Lewis (and All Hail the person who posted the
amazon-review URL, because I knew about it). I'd have loved that too, of
She *has* read _Till We Have Faces_. Of course she has. Lewis tutored her.
Red in the face,
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