I started reading Jonathan Franzen's "Freedom" on Saturday. I was on the treadmill at the gym, reading on my trusty old Nook when my phone started blinking, indicating that I had mail. I opened it to see that it was another rejection from a New York agent, and I had to smile.
There I was reading a book by the author that made the cover of Time Magazine as I received a kind let-down email on my book. Mr. Franzen and I are on opposite ends of the literary scene. and that's okay [for now] because damn, can that man write.
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