where the writers are
Done-In

I am 'done-in' ravished by 1st week-long request. I want to drop everything but cannot immediately. It has caused me to write whole essays mentally on just why the subject is larger, invites tangential commentary, essay, associative thinking on names in fiction ... (domino effect) ... serial spines associated ... writing process itself, most satisfying last lines --- why first names may not, in themselves, be remarkable but for who speaks them. And, why .... David Copperfield, for instance, although it is not David but Micawber, Aged P, the Pickwickians, those worthies....

This is only beginning of masterful treatise, manifesto, reflection on what writing is -- which takes me back to tabla rosa -- papyrus -- pictographs and grams --- scrolls, lost, or not -- why Ishmael does not make the cut but Bartlebey, Turkey (lacking euphony), and Nippers do. Why both RLS and Milne matter (including Tao of), but Nursie is what calls up the lamplit nursery, and Sanders, first Wildwood. Before journey to real Wildwood (Wind in the Willows) ... wildwood calling up INFERNO. In Willows, that great quartet (as much as opera to me), NOT just Toad, why it is not the names of the fatally engaging four, but why Badger calls up Bilbo Baggins, although they are not, not (sic) alike at all but in homey order. Dwelling-place. Re. Pooh, as much as James James Worthington Wetherby George Dupree-not SO much remembered, but beloved by cherished children. Gone, but not forgotten. And Walter de la Mare's mysterious poems to whom? WHOM is a name, I believe. As are Somebody and Nobody. As is Nymph, as in "Nymph, Nymph what are your beads? And the goblins of no name in Goblin Market who shivered a child's timbers long before Treasure Island. Treasure Island? You see?