I've been here, writing. For the most part. There were some holidays scattered in there, and snacks, and frittering away time on Netflix. But I have done a bit of writing. One week in I hit a wall: "I hate this book, it's no good, I don't want to write it any more." I could feel myself giving up, and it wasn't just a sad feeling, it was scary. Will I give up on every book? Will I never finish another novel?
So I took a little break. Did the aforementioned snacking and reading and whatnot. Then I went back to it and yes, it has some problems, some still unanswered questions. But it isn't all bad, I don't think. Not all of it. There's something here I can work with.
I could continue down the path of "Writing is hard! This is stupid! It's not good enough I hate it I quit!" That path is wide open and all too easy to take (along with drowning in Netflix and ice cream and my own misery). But perhaps for now I will choose optimism. You can choose these things, you know. The book is far from perfect, far from done. Far from even figured out yet. I really don't know what it will be. But I'm ready to stick around for a while and find out.
In other news, I visited the MFA yesterday. I'm now a huge fan of Odilon Redon and Randolphe Bresdin – very beautiful black and white fantastical etchings, a few of Redon's are dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe (that's the sound of worlds colliding). Above is The Reader, Redon's portrait of his teacher, Bresdin. So peaceful, so thoughtful…It's a relatively small exhibit of their work (along with a million other things that I loved there which I will talk more of later) but it's only there for a few more days so if you are in the neighborhood I highly recommend it.
Published on January 12, 2012 10:14