The Collected Stories (1997)
“In the car, driving to Bradley Field to meet Parsons' plane, Fuller had said to Bean, Tve been excited about this seminar for weeks. I was writing night and day, night and day. I was on to something very big and very important to me personally. I knew I had to finish it in time for the seminar, so I could show you. And by God I did finish it. It's back at the hotel. Frankly speaking I think it's the best thing I've done, but I'll let you be the judge of that.' 'I want to see it, Denton. You kno...w I do.' Sumner Bean's gentle Quaker voice soothed Fuller.
'You look at this poem,' said Fuller. 'But be brutal, tear it to pieces if you want to.' Sumner Bean smiled.
Fuller relaxed and drove the car with confidence, reducing his speed on the thinly iced road. 'Working like a mule,' he said. 'I shut myself off completely when I work. Don't talk to a soul. Just pick at my food. I go for long walks. Refuse to answer the telephone.' 'We don't have a telephone,' said Sumner Bean.MoreLess
'You look at this poem,' said Fuller. 'But be brutal, tear it to pieces if you want to.' Sumner Bean smiled.
Fuller relaxed and drove the car with confidence, reducing his speed on the thinly iced road. 'Working like a mule,' he said. 'I shut myself off completely when I work. Don't talk to a soul. Just pick at my food. I go for long walks. Refuse to answer the telephone.' 'We don't have a telephone,' said Sumner Bean.MoreLess
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