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Manifest Destiny
Jun. 19th, 2001 | 08:52 am
I wrote yesterday, b'God, I actually wrote something on novel #3 (which is, as you will recall, actually novel #2.2, being as it's part two of a previous novel.)
Now, it's true, I only wrote a couple paragraphs, but at least I broke through the crunchy chocolatey coating and got a tiny taste of the rich creamy center of my creativity.
I titled this journal entry "Manifest Destiny" because it occurs to me that it is how I write--I plunge forward, sloppily conquering as much territory as possible, then later I make the little concessions and/or fight the great battles required to hold said territory.
That's the extent of my brainy commentary for the day. It's sunny, I'm feeling a bit dazed and distant from getting up at 5 a.m. to do yoga and a workout. Oh, and also to deal with this whole Ebay mess.
I'm in Ebay hell. Husband's gone to SF for a week to work on his sailboat and I'm left to ship out all the packages from the 14 auctions that closed this weekend. It wouldn't be so bad, except half of the stuff is either motorcycle-related or sailboat-related; the motorcycle is stuff is hell inconvenient to package and the sailing stuff is hard on the brain because I can't tell a Fiddle block from a Fairlead block and I'm in terror of sending out the wrong thing to the wrong person.
Boy, what miniscule middle class white American problems I have. I hardly feel right even keeping a journal--journals should be for people who actually have something important to talk about.
Or maybe not.
P.S. Heard a magnificent story last night on NPR's "Selected Shorts," called "How to Give the Wrong Impression," by Katherine Heiny. It is anthologized in "Nothing But You: Love Stories from The New Yorker." Ever wondered how the hell to write effectively in the second person? This story shows you how.
Now, it's true, I only wrote a couple paragraphs, but at least I broke through the crunchy chocolatey coating and got a tiny taste of the rich creamy center of my creativity.
I titled this journal entry "Manifest Destiny" because it occurs to me that it is how I write--I plunge forward, sloppily conquering as much territory as possible, then later I make the little concessions and/or fight the great battles required to hold said territory.
That's the extent of my brainy commentary for the day. It's sunny, I'm feeling a bit dazed and distant from getting up at 5 a.m. to do yoga and a workout. Oh, and also to deal with this whole Ebay mess.
I'm in Ebay hell. Husband's gone to SF for a week to work on his sailboat and I'm left to ship out all the packages from the 14 auctions that closed this weekend. It wouldn't be so bad, except half of the stuff is either motorcycle-related or sailboat-related; the motorcycle is stuff is hell inconvenient to package and the sailing stuff is hard on the brain because I can't tell a Fiddle block from a Fairlead block and I'm in terror of sending out the wrong thing to the wrong person.
Boy, what miniscule middle class white American problems I have. I hardly feel right even keeping a journal--journals should be for people who actually have something important to talk about.
Or maybe not.
P.S. Heard a magnificent story last night on NPR's "Selected Shorts," called "How to Give the Wrong Impression," by Katherine Heiny. It is anthologized in "Nothing But You: Love Stories from The New Yorker." Ever wondered how the hell to write effectively in the second person? This story shows you how.