I write about things.
What are regrets?
Distilled energy, or fantasy
Thoughts gone sideways
Memories suffused with romanticism
Recollections of a past
Combed clean of nuisances, irritations
Practical problems
Larger, better, forever
Musings of yesterday push
Hope, a picture of tomorrow
Happily ever after
—Very interesting—
The cusp draws footsteps, hands reaching out ahead to feel the open air where all below is unknown. Here, on the rock face, time stops its sweeping and fire replaces stagnant air. Here, anxiety and anticipation become indiscernible; they face each other in mighty battle.
It is only one mere step—that drop below—and the urge to retreat radiates an influence that is not to be dismissed. “Dive! Dive,” a voice calls up, and with closed eyes, I—
Wait, what?
Silly, I don’t give away these things so easily. Not in a blog, anyway.
I became motivated to write today…my novel stretched out it’s rough fingers and tapped me on my bare arm, saying, “Lady, your casual behavior toward me is an insult.”
My novel is right. I owe it something for giving me so much–purpose, understanding of self, exploration, a place to vent and weep and feel and love and create and drop my poise, reach for something, give something, move in trance, awaken, fulfill the ego, impress you, impress me, become bigger than the myriad parts that make me up, exist on screen, live on paper, hope for more, become fabulous, exude heat and charisma, receive insight, twist and turn and massage into accurate expression, perceive and be perceived, imagine my face on a slick jacket (what would my eyes say in that picture?), my name in bold along the seductive spine of the book itself.
Yes, little novel…I owe you.
Well, now. I just finished my upcurrrent swim through the tome Ahab’s Wife, by Sena Jeter Naslund. Set in the 1800s during the height of the whaling industry, the book examines slavery, and equity, love, and yes–whales. The book examines the notion that Ahab, of Moby Dick, had a wife who kept notes and eventually wrote a novel regarding her experiences before and after meeting Ahab.
It was a struggle to get through, and pedantic, and terribly perfect in ways that made it feel remote and unreal. I could never relate to Una, the novel’s protagonist. She is intact always, regardless of her struggles, regardless of the heartbreaks she endures (too easily endures, really). Lose a lover, lose a child…it’s a tragedy until she contemplates the stars and the sea, and all her grief becomes unrealistically poetic and she is just…her…just Una, the same, never changed. Perfect, always.
But one small thing I have to admit to: I am in the minority here. The book is celebrated. It’s comparisions to Moby Dick broad and loved. For me, (and if you know me–you know I’m not the sort to say this!) the best portions of the book are in the heart of the action scenes, the swashbuckling whale chases, the try-pots burning with whale blubber.
But just re-read Moby Dick. Skip this one.
March of Young Hunger
You are still so lovely
As lovely as I remembered
He wrote and the writing
Filled her up
She was still so filled
Inexplicable fingers of satisfaction
Tapping and gratitude seeping
All out of proportion
See, she’s sure she lost her
Looks, that children and worry and
Even contentment (and even lack of
Hunger) had stolen her concavity
And so stole her appeal
No, no, he reassured, verbal
Pats on the hand that still tapped
In staccato for several days
(nothing can sustain) and the beat ran mute, alas
All convexity once again
###
So, I’m gearing up for NaNoWriMo, are you?
National Novel Writing Month: http://www.nanowrimo.org
I figure I can get the skeleton book done in November. The rest of the year, and a good chunk of 2008 will be taken up filling in those bones.
Join me?
Dear readers,
Yep, I’m still around. It’s been a while, and for that, I apologize. I’ve been busy writing, working on my novel, and submitting poetry.
A recent poem has been accepted at Farmhouse Magazine, so I’m excited about that and can’t wait to share it with you once it’s been published.
In the meantime, please take a look at my other website: http://wordglow.com. There, you’ll see that I’m busy working in a professional capacity, writing and editing for others. It’s a joy to be able to work with other writers and to share with them.
Keep writing!
Here’s one of my newer stories, recently published in The Rose & Thorn. Enjoy:
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.
mary june brown 