Oh, I am so beside myself, right now. Total fan-boy mode. I spent hours, today, handling the artifacts of a man whose meaning in history is without question. We're talking boxes and boxes of papers, awards and photographs of his. What's even better is, as I worked I listened in on the conversation between the archivists and donor's associate discussing plans and histories and details of his world...and I can't even think, I'm so lost in it all.
It kills me that I cannot name the guy, but there's still too much to finish and blabbing too soon would jeopardize the entire deal. I have to wait till everything's been carefully put away in its new home and an announcement is made about it. But I had to let out a little and hope that in a few months I can reveal his identity. And bounce off the walls, again.
What's especially great is hearing stories about how he dealt with moments where his creativity was at low ebb -- he'd basically garden, albeit on a larger scale than a flower patch. More like landscaping. Let his mind sort through the issues as he concentrated on more immediate tasks. And it turns out he was about as disorganized as I am. It wasn't till he brought on his assistant that his papers began to get into order.
This is one of the job's perks -- working with working writers and artists and scholars. I stay quiet and let them talk and learn more about life and how things work than I ever could on my own. Even dealing with an antiquarian library of books on British law from the 16th and 17th centuries makes me intensely happy. It can be back-breaking work and sometimes the people involved make things a lot more difficult than it needs to be...but it's like I'm helping keep history alive, in my own small way, and that makes up for a lot of turmoil.
I know my own writing will never achieve these heights, but it's still fun to see how the work of others has.
It kills me that I cannot name the guy, but there's still too much to finish and blabbing too soon would jeopardize the entire deal. I have to wait till everything's been carefully put away in its new home and an announcement is made about it. But I had to let out a little and hope that in a few months I can reveal his identity. And bounce off the walls, again.
What's especially great is hearing stories about how he dealt with moments where his creativity was at low ebb -- he'd basically garden, albeit on a larger scale than a flower patch. More like landscaping. Let his mind sort through the issues as he concentrated on more immediate tasks. And it turns out he was about as disorganized as I am. It wasn't till he brought on his assistant that his papers began to get into order.
This is one of the job's perks -- working with working writers and artists and scholars. I stay quiet and let them talk and learn more about life and how things work than I ever could on my own. Even dealing with an antiquarian library of books on British law from the 16th and 17th centuries makes me intensely happy. It can be back-breaking work and sometimes the people involved make things a lot more difficult than it needs to be...but it's like I'm helping keep history alive, in my own small way, and that makes up for a lot of turmoil.
I know my own writing will never achieve these heights, but it's still fun to see how the work of others has.
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