16. FOR I HAD COME TO DOUBT MYSELF...
Back to New York City and my (admittedly overlong) back-story.
As I exited the Society Library at 79th and Madison raindrops speckled the sidewalk. I carried my battered briefcase and two plastic bags, one in each hand. The plastic bag in my left hand held “Bitsy” Watson’s copy of “Duplicity,” the one in my right held the other two un-collated copies. I still had to get a manuscript box. If you haven’t done so all this time by now you must be wondering why I couldn’t have just emailed Bitsy a digital version of my novel, why I insisted on this antiquated and cumbersome approach. Call me a Luddite, but I could not bear the thought of Bitsy reading my virtual words. I wanted her turning pages — not digital pages, real ones. For the same reason I can’t
