I've been revising The Bodley Boys to resubmit to an agent. Last night, fueled by ideas that wanted out, I worked from 1:30-5:30am. I felt possessed, as if I were just a go-between to get the words written.
Today, my son and I were going through my father's WWII letters for a school history project. We haven't gotten very far, but I just found this bit in one of his letters:
July 16, 1945
“I wrote a short story today. After I edit it I think I’ll send it to a magazine just for the hell of it. Most of the guys think it is pretty good—but it really isn’t too hot. Maybe I can rework it.”
How timely, as I'm doing my own revisions to find this gem from the past. And to see a bit of my father's personality as well.