Well, if you can make a Princess Di wedding gown, then Norman Mailer's letter to his mistress probably aren't sacrosanct. So, Carol Mallory, Mailer's purported mistress from 1983 to 1992, has sold seven huge boxes of handwritten letters to Harvard. According to SignsOnSanDiego, Mallory wanted to learn to write from Mailer and has included several autobiographical parts of their sex life in the Harvard papers. That's what we call fan fiction (is this thing on?)
Mallory did claim that she knew how valuable the material was but wanted to wait for him to die out of respect. It’s like putting out a sexy (in a good way) version of Mommie Dearest. Does anyone really care about the sex life of Norman Mailer. Sure, the Colonel's dead and we're still enjoying his chicken. And Mailer as your guide to writing a great sex scene is a bit of a stretch. It’s like tagging along on a bunch of high-profile political burglaries with G Gordon Liddy in order to write a how-to. For Pete's sake, he won the 2007 award for bad sex in fiction. OK, sex is like pizza, its still pretty good even if it's bad. So, in summary when you die, they're going to find all of your porn. And the nasty text messages. And whatever weird shit you spent 50% of your waking time trying to hide. Try all you want to hide it, but you never know when you’re going to die. Sorry, Mom and Dad.
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