I’d stopped writing my novel for a couple of months–it wasn’t going anywhere. yes, There were words on a page, but I’d lost my enthusiasm for it, which I’m (unfortunately) apt to do.

However, a strange thing happened. It came back to me. Came roaring back, asked me if I missed it, seduced me back into it’s web. So here I go again. Again. Again.

One of these days, I swear, I’m going to finish the thing.

That story.

June 21, 2007

What does a writer do with that story–the one that comes from the heart, that took everything you had, that you are in love with…the story that you are immeasurably proud of…but just can’t place in any market, no matter how many times it’s submitted?

We’ve all got one. A piece that we worked on, rewrote, edited, poured ourselves into; a piece we are moved by more and more with each rereading. It’s a bummer of magnificent proportions that nobody else seems to see it’s brilliance.

I’ve written many stories, some great and some not so–and I’ve seen several make their way into print (thank you, publishing powers-that-be!). But there’s this one that sits on my hard drive, languishing. It’s one of my personal faves, and yet–“not for us…good luck placing it elsewhere…”

So, there it sits, waiting for an audience, and I scour duotrope every couple months, looking for its home. Poor wayward, homeless (but brilliant!) little thing.

It’s all material.

June 11, 2007

I was listening to the news today, and in it, there was an update on that certain blonde heiress and her stint in jail.  You know who I mean, right?  If not, stop reading now–this post’ll bore you.

Okay, still with me?

See, the thing I was thinking when I heard this update was, “who needs to know what her current status is…in jail, no less?”–it goes to show how the news media conditions the news, makes a story where there isn’t one, indeed, makes us care about things we’d never imagine smart, sensible people (like you and me) would pay attention to.

It’s saturated, this kind of material media coverage, our lives.  People may say, “well, turn the channel; tune out.”  But I live here, in this culture, and I cannot get away from it.

Worse, in the middle of the Heiress Day 5 in Jail Update, I find myself leaning forward, interested, at attention.

So, my fellow blogger, Pretty Good on Paper, tagged me with what he calls the “dreaded” Meme of Eight. Thanks a lot. Now I have to think of random facts about myself that might be a modicum of interest to the general world.

Well, here goes (nothing):

1. I am terribly patriotic and often hum the Star Spangled Banner. I get choked up over the Pledge of Allegiance and cry over a display of fireworks. I love America.

2. I am extremely gullible. I have learned to look up and double check things, to the point that sometimes I don’t believe at first things that are true, and should be accepted on first point. Being gullible, has, in the end made me rather skeptical.

3. I am just now getting into the Sopranos. Hearing about it all these years, I couldn’t imagine an intellectual like myself (I jest, but only barely) would like an HBO series based on the mob. I’m hooked now, and it has taken over and replaced my former Law & Order addiction.

4. In college, I fell in love with none other than Woody Allen. Yes, that Woody Allen. I wrote to him, and amazingly he wrote me back. I fantasized about him pulling up to my dorm room and wisking me away in a limo. I imagined us making witty and clever conversation. Alas, he chose to take up with his almost-daughter, Soon-Yi, which broke my heart. I got over it.

5. I’m a chronic user of Q-Tips. Really. I use about 8 a day–I just like clean ears.

6. My favorite poet is Walt Whitman. My favorite poem, however, is by e.e. cummings and is:

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

7. I do not like clowns. They are really frightening, don’t you agree?

8. I break rules in the blogosphere, because I’m too much of a goody-two-shoes to do it anywhere else. Thus, I’m not participating in the 2nd part of this meme, that is…I’m not tagging others to do it. But, if you are interested…the rules are at the bottom of this post.

So there you have it–a random like of facts for your reading pleasure.


The Meme of Eight Rules:

1. Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.

2. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their 8 things and post these rules.

3. At the end choose 8 people to get tagged and list their names.

4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and to read your blog.