My Dearest Zissy,
Your new book arrived in the mail and I can’t express to you enough my deepest envy and admiration of your success and ability. It’s a wonderful piece of work and it’s very well done. Most notably of all, it’s big! I have no idea how such a massive thing gets produced.
Everything I’ve ever written amounts to a single pamphlet by comparison.
My system of writing is simple: I wake up in the morning and write about 300 words. Then I include illustrations from the day before.
Horace sometimes prevents me from drawing anything, so I have to use any other free time that I can find in the day. No free time means no illustration, as is the case today, so I’ll add one later. The priority is on having something written.
That is the system for now: Zero readership, zero emphasis on finding an audience. No special format for the time being. Only writing.
This is somehow freeing to me because it means creating a body of work that can be promoted later. I have it. It is mine. It is not a massive tome to be recognized or critiqued. Perhaps it will be found after I die and be unceremoniously tossed into the trash with my old photos trinkets. Maybe that’s the way it should be: “Without further ado” should be it’s title, and it should recieve no ado whatsoever.
Your book deserves tons of ado, because it weighs tons and there are so many of them in print. How many of them are there? 100,000? You should donate a copy to each of the public libraries in Istanbul. It sounds impressive! You’d get bragging rights and still have 99,987 copies left for your dustbin! Minus anything that’s been sold, you might still have enough to build a small pyramid, which I think is what we all actually want: A massive immovable blight on the landscape dedicated to our egoes, for all eternity. It’s the dream of beating the dustbin that’s ready to greet us all at the end.
Congratulations, Zissy, you may have actually beat the dustbin!