Couple of links:
Murder is Everywhere: What Not to Say to a Writer
It is a bit of a peculiar occupation for those not involved in it to grasp, I admit, and I've often discovered that when people don't understand what you do, they are—unintentionally, I'm sure—incredibly rude about it. Now, don't get me wrong. These were otherwise terribly nice people, but after a while I started to play Writer's Insult Bingo, and very nearly scored a Full House.
NYT: The Ballad of Geeshie and Elvie
This is a long, fascinating article, about music historians researching African American music of the 1930s, when so many of the records have been lost or destroyed, when so many of the people who were there have passed away, when so many of the interviews and information and photos they provided is locked in an archive no one is allowed to see. It has music and some interviews included, so if you're at work, turn your sound down.
There are musicians as obscure as Wiley and Thomas, and musicians as great, but in none does the Venn diagram of greatness and lostness reveal such vast and bewildering co-extent. In the spring of 1930, in a damp and dimly lit studio, in a small Wisconsin village on the western shore of Lake Michigan, the duo recorded a batch of songs that for more than half a century have been numbered among the masterpieces of prewar American music, in particular two, Elvie's "Motherless Child Blues" and Geeshie's "Last Kind Words Blues," twin Alps of their tiny oeuvre, inspiring essays and novels and films and cover versions, a classical arrangement.