A woman from the audience asked Lennon, "I can't even imagine 48,000 letters. How do you possibly sort through them?"
"Well, first of all, you do it by decade," he explained. "Then, for each decade, you make three piles: 'Absolutely Yes,' 'Absolutely No,' and 'Maybe.' Then, at the end, you take all the letters in the 'Maybe' pile and put them in the 'No' pile. Because there's not enough room for even all of the 'Yes' file!"
Rock legend Alex Chilton had a perfect title for his own memoir: I Slept with Charles Manson, Holly George Warren revealed. (Unfortunately, it was never written.)
Henry Bushkin was Johnny Carson's lawyer for 18 years, until Johnny fired him. Now he's written a memoir, Johnny Carson, but he still seems bewildered, even hurt. "18 years together — it was like a divorce," Bushkin said, almost to himself.
It's surprising how little writing has changed since the Internet, the iPhone, the iPad. Writing is an ancient process, like weaving. (The one exception: biographers can now find the weather report for a particular day online, to discover if their subject was lying in his letter.)