In our marriage it was our practice not to share anything that was upsetting, depressing, demoralizing, tedious--unless it was unavoidable. Because so much in a writer's life can be distressing--negative reviews, rejections by magazines, difficulties with editors, publishers, book designers--disappointment with one's own work, on a daily/hourly basis!--it seemed to me a very good idea to shield Ray from this side of my life as much as I could. For what is the purpose of sharing your misery with another person, except to make that person miserable, too?