Tuesday, November 12, 2002
There's a great line in Chistopher McQuarrie's The Way of the Gun where Longbaugh (played by Benecio del Toro) opines that "A plan is just a list of things that never happen." That goes doubly for writers. All of which is preface to saying that, as it turns out, I will not be moving to Providence after all. Rather, I'll be moving back to Atlanta in about three weeks. The reasons are several, and, for the most part, too annoying to go into, but, in the end, suffice it to say that my primary reason for moving the Rhode Island is coming south to finish her grad school work at UGA. More and more, I become convinced I'm simply not meant to leave the South. So, Providence is off. Atlanta is on. Either way, another few weeks and Birmingham is history and this time it's history that will not be repeated. I may be compelled to remain below the Mason-Dixon line, but at least I can do it in a place that is a place. Apologies to all of you who, for whatever reason, actually love Birmingham. I have tried, on and off, since 1983, to share your sentiments. I don't even think it's so much that I hate Birmingham, but that Birmingham hates me.
Moving on . . .
Yesterday I did (despite constant telephone interruptions) make it through chapters Six and Seven of TFoC. Today I hope to take care of Eight and Nine, which means I could be done with this read-through by Thursday. I also had to e-mail three different editors about stories for five different anthologies.
Yesterday I mentioned the storms that roared across the state Sunday. Late yesterday afternoon, Jennifer learned that two of the people who died in Alabama, in the coal-mining town of Carbon Hill, were her first cousin and the cousin's teenaged daughter.
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