July 16, 2016
In the fall of 1995 I crouched on a bench in Central Park. It was a crisp, blue sky day. I had been writing another novel about the Vietnam War resistance in previous years. But I had begun fiddling with Ceremonies again. I pulled out the last draft, which dated from my time in Columbia. The script was cut and taped together. Recently I had acquired a computer but I was still working with paper. Back in my apartment sat a four foot high batch of drafts. I struggled to imagine a story in Ceremonies.