A handwritten diary page written in dark ink dated in the lefthand margin "Mon. Jan 26th".

Diary entry for January 26, 1920

Transcript below

Monday 26 January

The day after my birthday; in fact I’m 38. Well, I’ve no doubt I’m a great deal happier than I was at 28; & happier today than I was yesterday having this afternoon arrived at some idea of a new form for a new novel. Suppose one thing should open out of another – as in An Unwritten Novel – only not for 10 pages but 200 or so – doesn’t that give the looseness & lightness I want: doesn't get closer & yet keep form & speed, & enclose everything, everything? My doubt is how far it will enclose the human heart – Am I sufficiently mistress of my dialogue to net it there? For I figure that the approach will be entirely different this time: no scaffolding; scarcely a brick to be seen; all crepuscular, but the heart, the passion, the humour, everything as bright as fire in the mist….

End of Transcript

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