January 1, 2021

Same Bach plays on the CD that has played for a week, I unable to get enough of it. Maud curls under the desk, beating my leg with her contented tail. Zoom meetings last night with AGMC and the Usual, the second sustained into the New Year, when we all saluted on another and tottered off to bed. The most remarkable volume of rain continues to pour down upon the roof. Every crevasse on earth should be filled by now.

I have outgrown the minute parsing of the deeds of the past and hopes for the future, but I will say that 2020, catastrophic as it was on the world stage, was for me the longest sustained period without despair since the 70's. Also, in terms of writing, the most productive. In the white heat of play writing I may actually have done more, but there was never much prospect of getting that to the public. Beautiful Necklaces seems to have hit a public nerve– whether a big one or a little one remains to be seen. 

Full steam ahead revising Silver, possibly finishing tonight. In terms of muscularity of prose, it’s the best I’ve done.