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What Comes on Monday?
after taking a novel through eight drafts in almost as many years it is a great relief to have it published. The first real indication that its spell has been broken is when the six presentation copies arrive. You put them on a shelf and stand back to enjoy the view they make: the sensation is similar to that of throwing soil on the coffin of someone who has been only half a friend: he imposed on you a bit too much, though you couldn’t help liking him for it in a grudging sort of way. “Well,” you say, “that’s over: now for something new.”
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