Even when she had a house full of company, part of Maud’s mind was always occupied with whatever she was writing. Visitors witnessed these mysterious internal dialogues. Sometimes she would stand stock-still, laugh aloud as if in surprise, and murmur, “Why, that’s what I’ll do! That’s exactly what I’ll do” — and rush off to jot down a note or scene. She kept a notebook and pen in her apron pocket for these small literary “emergencies.”
Reminds me of Hubby. . .
