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When David Markson wrote in June to complain about an author’s getting an award he though should have been his, Wallace gently warned him away from the pitfall of envy: “Mostly I try to remember how lucky I am to be able to write, and doubly, triply lucky I am that anyone else is willing to read it, to say nothing of publishing it. I’m no pollyanna – this keeping-the-spirits-up shit is hard work, and I don’t often do it well. But I try… Life is good
