Sunday, November 13, 2011


When I was cleaning out my studio this weekend, I found this - a letter from what I think may have been my first published gig. Lordy, did I hate being 21. The publisher claimed to be Winston Churchill's grandson, which may have been true, for all I know. His secretary/personal assistant was mind-numbingly beautiful, which is the sort of thing you notice when you are 21. The publishing officers were in a very nice loft, which I assumed was his apartment, although, again, I have no way of really knowing.

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