Well, yesterday, as I drove to Chicago for a concert, I had some time to kill (and the kitchen was closed at the venue, so my time was completely filled up with work), I not only plowed through my 2014 Guide To Literary Agents and singled out a slew of writer's conferences to attend (either next year or this year), most of them extremely reasonable in price and distance (a lot of them are in the Midwest or in Colorado).
I also learned the basics of what I need to do in order to write a non-fiction book proposal, which I shall do here presently.
I also made the decision as to my next big literary (as opposed to cinematic... mean script) project: a book about a college friend of mine who has fallen on addiction. It'll be my first Kemp novel written from the first person and it might read a bit like On the Road (in Sal Paradise's near-infatuation with Dean Moriarty).
And tomorrow I am off to Jones Typewriter in Maplewood to buy a black, portable Remington typewriter from 1935.
It is $200, but $180 if I pay cash.
I can't wait.
This is the find of a century... like it was meant to be.
I had been looking, specifically, for a black, Remington portable.
But to find one in such mint condition (only a few dings) just around the corner from me... Well...
And it's so compact! Even the travel casing is in near-perfect condition!
I feel a bit like Peter Weller's Bill Lee in Naked Lunch.
"I want that typewriter in the window... The Clarke-Nova portable."
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