I like to think she whispers to all of us writers in individual ways, speaking in whatever language we tap into when we stretch our ear to the universe and quiet our minds. Dear Writer, she says. Always Dear.
But it’s just that of all the taxis I've ever been in and all the drivers you’ve got to be one of the slowest. And did I ever ask you why you're not Hemingway? No, but writing and driving aren't . . . and stuttered into silence.