Spin, spin, liquors of life; spin, jellies, sweet sirops of my flesh, sweetness, the gramophone...
Sartre's classic existential moment in La Nausee kicked off my first creative foray into serious writing some years ago, and it seems fitting to wheel it out, dust it down and polish it up for this new journal.
I always thought in this English translation it was a luscious line which dripped off the tongue. I remarked back then in 1981 that "it's probably the only line in literature to lose something in the translation back to the original".
It was a collection of fragments called The Gallery. Maybe I could dig some of them out, to remind me of my roots as a writer.
This is all coming up for me now because I've just submitted my first proposal, and I haven't heard back yet.
It's been a week!!!
You always think you've probably done enough, and then you begin to think of things you didn't do and didn't include. Friends and colleagues begin to come up with brilliant ideas which - had they been mentioned two days before you pressed the "send" button - might have made the difference between stardom and oblivion...or so one imagines.
But in reality, you do your best and move on. You take what comes I suppose and try hard to have no regrets. And try again!