I've been meaning to quote this passage from Truman Capote, because it is the topside of hokum, only the most creamy of wonder stuff: "My literary tasks kept me fully occupied: my apprenticeship at the altar of technique, craft; the devilish intricacies of paragraphing, punctuation, dialogue placement. Not to mention the grand overall design, the great demanding arc of middle-beginning-end. One had to learn so much, and from so many sources: not only from books, but from music, from painting, and just plain everyday observation." (Preface, Music for Chameleons). aint it the truth, Truman!!! I once pulled a hammy during a rough session paragraphing. whew. I dunno why one would need to make writing sound like such an act of suffering. I had a spell some years back of reading Capote, because his work seemed instructive. he got totally balled up in a very Hollywood conception of writing and art. drugs and alcohol flattened him, but his celebrity engine kept running. the thing is, that vision of the artist is wickedly and widely present. Love and Fame. and this guy who suffered so much for his art becomes an authority on the strength of that. of course Beverly Dahlen's authority is built on a greater foundation. Capote's Proustian claptrack Answered Prayers was a desperate attempt to make good on his scam. sigh. check out the author photo. a proud post rehab shot, older, but back to fighting weight. the fingers of his left hand are around his chin in standard author pose, goofy but common enough. the fingers of his right hand are by his chin. it's a highly conscious shot, adn yoiu wonder why he's so careful in this pose. it looks like he's giving a gang sign, or he's holding his head straight. at any rate, the picture summons consideration of the public author, and the sort of shit he or she may allow themselves to do.