Writers are usually embarrassed when other writers start to 'sing.' Their profession's prestige is at stake and the blabbermouths are likely to have the whole wretched truth beat out of them –– that they are an ignorant, hysterically egotistical, shamelessly toadying, envious lot who would do almost anything in the world –– even write a novel –– to avoid an honest day's work or escape a human responsibility. Any writer tempted to open his trap in public lets the news out.
Diary entry (28 June 1959)
[from The Diaries of Dawn Powell: 1931-1965, edited and introduced by TIM PAGE, Steerforth Press, 1995]
Use the link below to read an article from the online edition of The New Yorker describing the unsuccessful efforts of DAWN POWELL biographer TIM PAGE to find a permanent academic home for the forty-three volumes of her handwritten diaries:
http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/books/2012/07/the-diaries-of-dawn-powell.html
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