‘I have come to rely on the kindness of strangers!’
You don’t exactly expect to be turned into Blanche Dubois by people you loved, out of a Street Car Named Desire, but take the strain and never complain. Then you’ll be a man, my son! Not exactly what I’ve done, I know. When I was informed though, out of a deeply personal and supposedly private relationship, and by the CEO at my publisher I ‘burned my bridges’ I snapped back he had no right to say it. He didn’t, or to turn a personal ‘take’ into a company take, as bridges weren’t burnt, but simply removed completely, despite contracts and promises, and their unnecessary little conspiracy. With all the authors in the world, and all the people trying to survive, do I have a right to a living, or a readership? No, of course not. You are as good as what you write, or what you can sell the public. But I did have a right to support of the work Abrams contracted.
I wanted to heal everything once, family pasts too, always inclusive of people, I think, and I’ve ended up healing nothing at all. Stories are only echoes of how life might be better and people much bigger. Better fictions, perhaps, and better tears. I wondered why I couldn’t be more proud or confident though, when Fire Bringer came out, of wanting to buy back a lost family home, or to succeed for myself, at last. Because the contradictions inside my Dad were just too great, perhaps, the draw of his past, and I’d also been wounded personally. Because I also hated invasion. Then you can become ‘your own worst enemy’, another take from my own editor. Is it better not to compromise the heart and soul, and fail completely, knowing not one of them could have coped and peace in such tongues is outrageous?
I don’t know right now, but when the person you love and your ‘best friend’ become the enemies, at the heart of your working life and livelihood, watch those street cars. Well, dear Abrams, loving exes and decent friends, big companies and editors always ‘win’, unless you’re Prince, and you’re about to take Vanbrugh Court too now, home of fireworks once and birthday balloons, and little offices of Phoenix Ark Press. Quite a road, out of opening a heart and trusting. So ‘burn this’, and many congratulations on all you’ve done to a man, life and a writer, in brave New York City. I hope you’re all hugely proud of your loyalties and imaginations, professional standards, and the connected and truly seeing world we all seem such a vital and nimble part of nowadays!