Although at the time I wrote to Norman Mailer I was a 36-year-old rounder, con man, and literary hack, I pretended to be an 18-year-old cheerleader named Buffy. He wrote back and extolled the virtues of my story "New Jersey Turnpike," which I had sent him.
After I few months, I revealed my true identity. He still continued to write. Said that his favorite author was Tolstoy and that (at the time) he was wrestling with a "great beast" of a novel (later to become _Harlot's Ghost_).
He offered to let his literary secretary read over my novel
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