Friday, August 25, 2006
Gone Fishin'
This is my last post for a while, as Brian, Chloe, and I will be relaxing in Maine for the next week. I am SO looking forward to planning my day around bike rides and swimming instead of buses and meetings. Have a good week everyone! In the meantime, here's an early Sunday Scribbling.
Monsters
I'm oddly nostalgic for the monsters of my youth, the ones with different colored fur and big teeth. The ones that could be banished by the opening of my closet door by my mother or by my turning on the light.
Now my monsters are harder to visualize, and harder to banish. They come in the ephemeral form of fear of fear of failure, anxiety about not doing things right, angst that the things I have done right will be taken away by a random act--a car that's driving too fast, a fire that no one smells, a sickness that overtakes every cell.
I wonder if giving these monsters a body, fur, teeth, would help. Then I could send them back to the island they came from. Give them a bottle and a blankie and tell them (and myself) that everything will be alright.
Click here to read about the monsters under other people's beds.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Susan's marital problems
My problem had been that I didn't want it to be something specific--cheating, infertility, workaholicness, etc.--mostly because Susan and Gary are going to stay together in the end and while I do think couples can overcome any of those problems, I also think that the act of overcoming would take over the story, which I didn't want.
So, here's what I'm thinking: Susan is basically questioning the value of being married, of dealing with the same person's B.S. for 50+ years. This comes up for a few reasons:
- At a fairly wild 30th birthday party for a friend, as a joke to harken back to their college days, they start playing the game "I never." (Just in case you don't know... someone makes a statement like, "I never had sex with a stranger" and people who have done that have to do a shot.) One of the statements is "I never fantasize about people other than my spouse". Gary drinks to that. And while intellectually Susan isn't shocked, emotionally she is. Drunk as she is, she asks him in the taxi home who he fantasizes about, and drunk as he is, he tells her its someone at work. She can't get that idea out of her head, and it makes her start to wonder if he wants to sleep with this person, then how is that so different from actually doing it? And what is marriage then?
- At the same time, she's been having some doubts about the marriage on a more emotional level: things have changed and he doesn't fulfill some of the needs he used to--like being thoughtful and making her feel special (by doing little things like bringing her candy bars that he knows she likes) and having long talks about random things like current events or the nature of people. They're busy, but she also feels like he's reluctant to try to reincorporate these things into their lives. She has found friends to fill this gap, but that makes her wonder why she is married if her husband can't be her best friend.
- There has to be a catalyst that makes her bolt. Maybe her mom dying is enough (life is short, etc.)
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Things to do before vacation
- Dust
- Vacuum, especially by the cat box
- Clean the kitchen floors
- Clean the bathroom
- Hang new shower curtain liner (buy it first!) and wash shower curtain
- Do all laundry and put away
- Plant new flowers outside
- Set up composter
- Clean up dirt that Boom Boom spilled on the back porch
- Water all plants
- Pack (games, DVDs, knitting, books--fun and school, laptop, cell charger, IPod charger)
- Hem pants
- If have time, file paperwork in office
20-ish questions with Gary
I think I might’ve done a Q&A with Gary (Susan’s husband) before, but I can’t find it. And in any case, I probably need to get to know him better anyway, per FC’s and BostonErin’s smart comments on one of my last posts.
So, here goes…
- How old are you? 33
- What do you do? I work in real estate. I survey land for investors to see whether it’d be a good spot to build on, how much it’s worth, etc.
- What would you prefer to be doing? Building the houses myself.
- Who do you love? My wife. Though I can’t seem to figure out how to convince her of that. Speaking of my wife, my creator here can’t figure out exactly what our problem is. Is there some sort of cheating/betrayal of trust going on? I don’t think so because if there were, I think Susan’s reaction to her mother cheating would be really bad. So what could our problem be? Obviously there are lots of potential things to break up a marriage. Ours seems to be one sided—Susan is feeling the problem, I’m not. Is it something I do? Like what? Criticize her too much. Drink too much? Do I want to have a baby and she doesn’t? Or vice versa? Maybe that’s it.
- Any regrets? I had a bit of a wild teen/early adulthood—sleeping around a lot, etc. But I don’t regret it exactly. I do regret the barbed wire tattoo ring on my arm. What was I thinking?
- Dogs or cats? Dogs. I want the kind that can ride in my pickup with me to jobs. Maybe this is another sore point between me and Suse. She doesn’t want one.
- What's your biggest fear? I’m not afraid of much. Though I’d hate to lose Suse.
- What are you going to do to make sure that doesn't happen? Give her some space. She seems to need to figure this out on her own.
- What is your favorite word?
- What is your least favorite word? Secret
- What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Driving with the windows down, the radio turned up, a cigarette in my mouth.
- What turns you off? Yuppies. Especially the idea that me and Suse might ever end up as them.
- What is your favorite curse word? I like em all.
- What sound or noise do you love? Any sort of machine noise: lawnmowers, jackhammers, cars. That’s why I love living in the city
- What sound or noise do you hate? Quiet. I can’t think when there’s no noise.
- What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? I’d like to sail around the world.
- What profession would you not like to do? Office work
18. If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Hey man, grab a beer.
Five, seven, five
Yo-Yo Ma and I-tunes
I fell in love with
the cello strings' deep, sad notes
through my computer
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
A kick in the butt part deux
So, somehow, the last scene with the father would end, and some other scenes would take place without the father, and then the father will almost taunt Susan about the fact that she hasn't spoken to Gary, and she'll make a snide remark about her dad.
"I don't know what you think you know about me and your mother, but we loved each other very much."
I was staring down at my hands, picking at the hangnails. "I've been meeting with him. Harold."
"You've been what? Why the fuck would you do that?" My dad had never cursed at me before. In front of me, yes, but never at me.
"I...I don't know. I found the datebook and thought I had figured out this big secret about mom. I wanted to know more about her."
"Oh yeah? And what'd you learn from this, this, Harold?"
What had I learned? I didn't think he'd take nothing for an answer. I thought for a minute. I could hear his breathing, which was courser and deeper, as if he had just run up the stairs.
"I learned that marriage is harder than I realized. Every marriage."
"Oh Susan," he said. And then he crossed the kitchen to hug me.
###
It was three in the morning, and I couldn't sleep. I didn't know what to do with all this information that I had wanted to know, that I had sought out even, but that now I wish I hadn't. I needed to talk to someone. Without thinking, in that muddled mind when you've been up too long, I picked up the phone and dialed my home number.
When Gary picked up it sounded like he had been sleeping, like his mouth was full of cotton. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called so late. I'll go," I rushed.
"Suze? What's the matter?"
"Nothing, it's nothing. I shouldn't have..." I was going to say bothered you, but instead I started to cry. I took big sobbing breaths and got tears all over my phone. I hated that he was hearing me cry. But I couldn't hang up.
My sobs were winding down when he said, "What's going on? What is it?"
And then they started again. How could he be so tender to someone who had all but left him?
I finally got control of myself and I told him the whole story: the datebook, Harold, the diner, my dad. "I'm sorry to call you so late, after we haven't talked for so long. But there was no one else who would understand.
...
I'm not sure what to do now. What would Gary say? One option:
"God, Suse. This is crazy. But why are you and your dad fighting? This has nothing to do with him."
I thought for a minute. I had always been closer to my mom. And while I loved my dad, it was easy to see that his testyness, his temper would be hard to live with. I assumed that was why my mom needed someone else.
Before I could even answer, Gary said, "I guess it's easier to be mad at the person who's still around." Yeah, I thought, that too.
We talked for a few more minutes, and then I started to get really tired, like I might fall asleep midsentence. "I'll call you soon, OK?"
"Yeah, OK. You've got a lot to deal with. Take your time. We'll talk soon." I could tell he was wondering whether he should say I love you. I wanted to say it first, to spare himthe confusion, but I couldn't.
Why couldn't she? Was she still not sure? did she not know if the level of familiarity that led her to call him was enough to hang a marriage on? In another scene, Susan would apologize to her father, but not in a very direct way. Maybe she would make him dinner.
A kick in the butt
Thanks FC, for "forcing" me to do a 15 minute free write. Here goes.
I need to insert at least two new scenes with Susan (who my mentor insists on calling Sarah in all her mentions of the character) and her dad. Here's some freewriting with that in mind...
I was sitting in the kitchen when I heard my dad's car pull up. I grabbed my coffee cup and ran to my room. I couldn't face him. Not knowing what I knew. And knowing that he knew what I knew.
I lay on my bed, looking at the pictures of my mom's Oprah magazine more than reading the articles. I doubt any of them would have advice for this particular situation. I heard my dad coming up the stairs and I wished I had thought to get in bed and pretend I was sleeping. I felt like a kid who had broke something, just waiting for her parents to figure her out.
"Hi Susan." I looked up to see him standing in my doorway. I had the feeling that if he were the type of dad to say "honey" or "sweetie" instead of my full name, things would be OK. "My secretary, Lisa, gave me a stew to warm up for dinner. It's so weird, all this sympathy from people I never really talked to before. Can you heat it up for us?"
I groaned inside. My father couldn't work a microwave. Or wouldn’t, rather. The rare times my mom went away to visit her sister, she used to make him individual meals, wrapped and labeled with things like "chicken pot pie--lunch on Friday".
"Sure," I said, sliding off the bed.
I slammed around the kitchen, annoyed that my father thought it was OK to be this helpless and expect people to take care of him, annoyed that I had to know what I knew and had no one to talk about it.
"You sure are making a lot of noise down here!" My dad came into the kitchen and sat down.
"Cooking can be noisy!" I said, not meeting his eyes. "Not that this is really cooking. A monkey could work a microwave."
"Hmph." my dad said, sitting down at the table and looking at the newspaper I had left there.
"How's
"I don’t know. Haven't talked to him in a while. You want to give him a call? You seem awfully concerned about him all of a sudden."
"It seems you're angry about something, and I really don't care to be talked to like this. I'm going to go out now. Maybe by the time I get home you'll have calmed down. As if you're the one who should be upset by all this."
"All this." That was the only mention that indicated he had any idea I was talking about more than microwaving stew.
[OK, I know this needs a lot of work, but it's a start!]
Fear of revision
So here's a brief interview with my fear. I've named him Bob.
Q: So, Bob Fear, why are you here? What is your cause?
A: Well, I'm hear because you are afraid of failing. You're afraid that if you try to fix up your story, you'll just prove that you can't. [Insert evil laugh here] You're afraid that any failure now just means you weren't meant to write. That you should accept that you'll always need a "day job". So just avoid the fear and don't write!
Q: But aren't I just proving the fear right if I don't do any work on the story? I mean, if I do nothing, there's no way it'll get better?
A: Umm, umm ummm
Monday, August 21, 2006
Questions about me... in groups of 3
I'm kinda hooked on these Q&As that poetmom often posts. (Poetmom, what does meme mean, BTW?
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME:
01 My husband dying
02 Letting fear stop me from doing something
03 Never being able to support myself with my writing
THREE PEOPLE WHO MAKE ME LAUGH:
01 Brian
02 Mary, my coworker who just had a baby (great for her, bad for me as there will be less laughing at work for the next 6 months while she's out on leave)
03 Chloe (OK, she's not a person, but she is funny)
THREE THINGS I LOVE:
01 My hubby
02 My family and friends
03 Writing (sometimes :)
THREE THINGS I HATE:
01 When I'm not emotionally honest
02 When others aren't
03 Self absorbed people
THREE THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND:
01 How people think that global warming isn't happening (this based on a conversation with my father this weekend)
02 How people can act as if they are the only people on earth who matter
03 How people can complain about the same thing about themselves over and over and never do anything about it.
THREE THINGS ON MY DESK:
01 A picture of my cat in a frog-shaped frame
02 A santa clause mug that holds pens
03 An angry snowman doll that Brian made for me
THREE THINGS I'M DOING RIGHT NOW:
01 Typing
02 Looking out the window onto Huntington Ave (there's traffic, shocker)
03 Trying not to feel guilty about slacking at work
THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE:
01 Publish a few novels that I'm proud of
02 Live off said published novels
03 Have a kick ass garden
THREE THINGS I CAN DO:
01 Stand on my head (lots of yoga!)
02 Train a dog (she listens to me most of the time....)
03 Listen
THREE WAYS TO DESCRIBE MY PERSONALITY:
01 Thoughtful
02 Sensitive (overly?)
03 Worried
THREE THINGS I CAN'T DO VERY WELL:
01 Be calm
02 Let go of things that annoy me
03 Keep my condo neat
THREE THINGS I THINK YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO:
01 Yourself
02 The Weepies
03 Meditation CDs
THREE THINGS I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO:
01 Your inner critic
02 The crazy people who ride the bus
03 Anyone who promises you salvation if you just give them money
THREE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE FOODS:
01 Ice cream
02 Cereal (specifically frosted mini wheats with skim milk)
03 Pasta with a little butter and red sauce
THREE THINGS I'D LIKE TO LEARN:
01 French
02 To sew (I can do simple things, but I want to be able to make clothes and stuff)
03 To be more emotionally honest
THREE BEVERAGES I DRINK REGULARLY:
01 Water with lemon or rosemary
02 Coffee (gotta stop...)
03 Chai
04 Wine (I added an extra spot. I couldn't leave wine out!)
THREE SHOWS I WATCHED WHEN I WAS A KID:
01 Facts of Life
02 Different Strokes
03 Full House
Sunday Scribblings (One day late)
It's so funny because my husband and I have mini-arguments about the inner lives of our pets all the time. He favors our cat, so when he talks about his inner mind, Brian talks in a deep, refined voice. When he talks about our dog's inner mind, he talks like a dopey three year old. But anyway...
The Inner Lives of Pets
She, the human, said
What a crap day. Overcast, humid. My hair is going to frizz up any second. And I'm late. Again. I wonder if my boss will notice. Of course she will. It's already a quarter to 9 and I'm stuck dragging this mutt around the block. I still need to shower, get dressed, and pack my lunch. And I want to fit in some meditation. I need to practice that stay in the moment stuff. Come on, dog, pee already!
She, the dog, said
A walk! Yea! I love walks. A rock! Yea! I love rocks. Grass! Yea! I love grass. A ball! Yea! I really love balls! Everything smells so good! I just want to sniff, and sniff, and sniff. And eat some grass. Yum. I love grass! Ahh, what's this? I need to pee. Man, it feels good to pee.
Why long, lonely, boring drives are good for a writer
PS-- I hope to do a belated Sunday Scribbling today
PPS--A short story contest announcement here.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Leaving on a jet plane
Brian's going to Las Vegas today for his brother's "bachelor" party (that's in quotes because the wedding has been called off, but all the guys already had their tickets to Vegas, so they're going anyway). Even though I normally wouldn't see Brian all day, I already miss him! I'm pathetic, I know.
But Chloe dog and I will head down to NY to visit my parents. Not quite as exciting as Vegas, but we'll both get home-cooked meals to chow on!
"See" you all on Monday!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
First Comments from my MFA Advisor
I need some clarification as to what she expects out of this revision (ie, how much do I need to change for it to count as a new submission?), but here's what I think I need to do at this point:
- Add more of a crisis point. I think I can do this by taking into account some of my mentor's other suggestions, including:
*Create a better balance between the two plots: Harold and Susan's problems with her husband. I can do this by clueing the reader in to the husband problems much earlier on than I do now, and by introducing the idea of a deadline to figure out her marriage earlier.
* Bring the father into the story more.
*Develop all the secondary characters more.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Fleshing out my story ideas
I just got back from a late lunch-break at Starbucks. I was feeling cranky and thought some coffee would help. What helped was sitting still for a moment and realizing my problem: I've been so caught up in getting my condo cleaned before vacation (this psychotic expectation I put on myself that everything must be neat and clean or I don't feel good leaving for more than a few days-- no easy feat considering how messy we are the rest of the year) and finishing my interdisciplinary submission for next time, that I haven't thought about or done much writing. (Phew, long sentence!)
So, now I'm going to brainstorm/flesh out the story ideas I first mentioned here.
The Rest of June
(The story has been told from the first person POV of Susan. Now I'm exploring getting into the dad's head, as I did here. The main plot is Susan's mom died, and Susan learned she was having an affair.)
Story ideas/scenes
- Start story with scene I described in my Sunday Scribblings post: the father is at home, drunk, and his secretary comes to see if he's OK. They sleep together--the first woman other than his wife he's slept with in 17 years.
- Another scene where he's back at work and seduces/is seduced by former student. Maybe secretary sees/knows and gets upset.
- In between, there are scenes showing his loneliness--eating alone, etc. Maybe he goes to the diner where June and Harold met. He could run into Harold. I think that as much as he'd want to confront him, he wouldn't.
- Must be a scene or two where he interacts with Susan. Over the phone? Does she come back to visit for a while? Maybe both--she calls, thinks he sounds weird, goes home. He gets mad at her for nosing into his life. Maybe she catches him with one of his new lovers. He is probably really dense when it comes to what's going on with his daughter's life--show that.
- Maybe Susan's sister, Liz comes into this somehow. Maybe dad overhears Susan on the phone with her, and Liz then comes to see what's going on.
I'm realizing what I really need to do is some more character development of the father so I know who he is. For another post soon...
Longer project (story involving dogs)
The first scene will be of the dog landing on the main character’s front yard. She will have been hanging curtains—she just moved in. The scene will involve the back and forth of the dog being scared and territorial, and clearly needing help. Will end with it drinking the water she left out for him.
Back at the house, she will miss it and be sad cleaning out its bowl.
She’ll go back to see it, bringing it toys and treats. The woman at the shelter will befriend her, convince her to start volunteering there.
What ever happened to Labor Day?
Monday, August 14, 2006
Book questions and answers
1. One book that changed your life? Bird by Bird by Ann Lamott
2.One book you've read more than once? Little Children by Tom Perotta
3.One book you'd want on a desert island?Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde
4.One book that made you laugh? The Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evonavich
5.One book that made you cry? The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien
6.One book that you wish you had written? The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
7.One book you wish had never been written? Hmm... Maybe the Daniel Steele books that I wasted too many hours on as a teen. Though I take that back because while she's not exactly literature, I'm sure there are many people who get into reading through her books, so it's probably a good thing that they're out there.
8.One book you are currently reading? The Last Days of Dogtown by Anita Diamant (Very good so far)
9.One book you have been meaning to read? So many! I have a huge pile at home. What tops the list is probably A Bullfighter Checks her Makeup by Susan Orleans because I have had it for over a year now!
Me and my Chloe dog
Sun, fun, and wine
PS--Thanks to Alyndabear for introducing me to another writing prompt web site. I'll probably tackle one of these later this week!
Friday, August 11, 2006
Sunday Scribblings: Who Else Can I Still Be?
Personal:
I feel like my life goals are the same or similar to what they've always been:
- be calmer,
- write more,
- have fun.
Fiction:
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm playing around with POV in a short story I'm working on, trying to decide if it's worthwhile to tell the story from different angles. Here's something from the POV of the father:
Who else can I still be, you ask? Lots of things. At first, after my wife's death, I thougth I couldn't be anything. I thought I'd just live quietly, avoiding thinking about the fact that the bitch was cheating on me. (I hate to think of my late wife like that--as a bitch or as a cheater. But I know that the latter, at least, is true.) And then Susan, my daughter--my too smart for her own good daughter--had to nose around and discover June's affair. Once someone else knew, I couldn't be quiet anymore.
First, brandy started disappearing from my liquor cabinet and landing in my belly at an alarming rate. Then I started skipping days at work. I'm a professor, and it's summer, so it's not like any one would notice if most of us took off for a few days. But I work all summer, all day. That's why my secretary came looking for me at my house on her lunchbreak when I didn't show up or return her calls for two days in the week after Susan left.
Until she showed up in my living room, I never thought of Patty as a real person. She was a good secretary--dependable, smart. I didn't know much about her personal life, other than the fact that she was a single mom to a 12 year old boy. But that day I learned an awful lot about Patty, an awful lot. And since then I've learned a lot about lots of women. More than I ever had before. The only one I'm sorry for is Torrey, a former student who came by to say hello. Yes, she's old enough to not get me in legal trouble, but I should've known better. But god, to see that young skin again! And to realize how little I appreciated it when I had young skin of my own.
So who can I be? I can be anyone. I've got a get out of jail free card--a dead, cheating wife-- that allows me to get away with just about anything, at least for a little while.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
New story ideas
I was thinking that it might be interesting to explore some other angles of the story that I just wrote. (It was a first-person story from the POV of a young woman, Susan, whose mother had just died. Susan discovers her mother was having an affair of sorts. Meeting with that man helps Susan figure out what to do with her own broken marriage.)
For example, showing how the death of the mother, June, and the discovery of the affair affects the rest of the family's lives. The stories could be told from the first-person POV of the father, and maybe the sister and aunt too. It might become a group of linked short stories. I seem to have a feel for the dad's voice right now. So maybe I'll start doodling on that.
I've also been trying to think of a bigger project (I'd say novel, but that seems kinda scary). I know I want it to include dogs in some way, since I am so in love with them and I think that animals lend an interesting something to stories. So here are my very vague thoughts:
- A woman who has just gotten divorced or widowed moves to a new town for a fresh start. She doesn't have a job yet, but has money from the divorce settlement/life insurance.
- She's not sure what to do with herself, somehow finds herself at the local animal shelter--maybe a dog gets thrown off a truck near her house and she brings him in.
- She ends up volunteering there, and through her interactions with the staff, people bringing in/picking up animals, and the animals themselves, she heals from her heartbreak.
- There will be one dog who she is particularly attached to--maybe the one who got thrown onto her lawn--but she doesn't want to adopt him for some reason. Maybe she feels too unstable to promise to take care of a dog for 10+ years. We'll follow that dog through a few placements with families that don't work out. Suspense will be created in that we'll want to know what happens to him.
- I obviously need more stuff to happen to sustain a novel, but hopefully this is an OK start.
Anxiety dreams
In the second dream, I was criticizing a friend of a friend, and he said to me, "Well, look at you! Look what you've done to your hair!" I was shocked speachless until I saw myself in a mirror and I had a very blond, very messy bouffant.
Why am I sharing this? Because in writing back to Fatcharlatan in my last post, I realized why I was having them: I'm really, really nervous to see my mentor's comments on my work! I have no idea what to expect. And clearly uncomfort with that unknowing is invading my psyche. Any other Lesley-ers having these feelings, or am I just crazy(er)?
New MFA schedule
By August 21: Have all three creative writing class scripts and handouts done. That basically means I'll be working my a$$ off on them next week since I'll be away the weekend of the 19/20.
By Aug 25 (the day before I leave for vacation): Have one annotation done, have an outline or some sort of plan for revising my story
Week of vacation: Read 2nd craft annotation book and write critique. Revise, revise, revise.
Crazy Americans
I was just thinking that it was a bad idea to plan my own vacation for the last week of August because it was too long a wait to get there. I can't imagine how cranky I would be if I never took a vacation, or took my work with me. Why can't people realize that work does not equal life? It makes me so sad.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Read any good books lately?
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Beautiful, blah day
In an effort to get over my funk and to keep productive, I was thinking I could:
- Think about the next story I want to write (though my next submission will be a revision of my first story, so I don't have a real push to get another started immediately)
- Think about, gulp, a novel idea I'm throwing around. I decided to abandon my first novel idea (sadly) when I realized it didn't really have enough drama, action, whatever you want to call it to sustain a whole book. It's now the short story I recently handed in. This newer idea *could* work, I think. Though I have no idea where it's going and I really need to get to know my characters. Maybe I'll work on that in these few days of downtime between submssions.
just have a hard time letting myself relax without feeling bored or unproductive.
Anyhoo... don't want this post to be too much of a therapy session! I'm off to Starbucks to
journal away my lunch hour. I know they're a big evil corporation, but something about
their stores is just soothing.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Word cloud
Poet mom introduced me to this cool site where you enter the name of a web site and it creates a "word cloud" made up of the words that appear most often on the site. What's neat is that if I were to list the things that are important to me, they're all words that appear in bold, big type in my cloud: Brian, Bug (which is Brian and my nickname for each other), Chloe, friend, home, husband, love, story, weekend, work, writing. The only thing I might add is ice cream. And coffee. Maybe I need to start blogging about food more often.
First submission: done!
+
- I metered out the work over the month to avoid a crazy crunch time
- I devoted a lot of mental energy to my writing
- I really made my projects a priority, even--gasp--saying no to a bunch of things to give myself the time I needed
- I shared the fact that I'm doing all this creative work with other people, which I've been reluctant to do in the past
- I didn't devote as much energy to my interdisc project (creating a creative writing class syllabus) as I could've
Sunday, August 06, 2006
A wonderful weekend (to make up for the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day)
Friday night, I took an awesome yoga class at JP's wonderful yoga studio and then Brian and I ate Thai food while watching bad TV. Saturday I met my friend Amy for some coffee, planted some flowers, and then got a manicure/pedicure with my friend Kerry before she took me out for a belated birthday dinner. We went to P.F. Changs and sat outside and had yummy food and even yummier drinks (the Key Lime martini is my new favorite thing).
Today I met up with some old colleagues--and fellow bloggers, bostonerin and poetmom-- from when I interned at Houghton Mifflin for a delicious brunch. And the best part is that since we had been reading each others' blogs, the fact that I hadn't seen them in years didn't matter a bit. Then Brian and I took advantage of the weather and rode our bikes around for a while and then had some wine and snacks at an outdoor bar in JP.
A nice weekend all around. :)
Sunday scribblings
I love this week's Sunday Scribbling prompt: Who else might I have been? It's a question I think about occasionally, and I find it fascinating to wonder about how different my life might be if I had taken a different path. I like to assume I'd be the same me, but I'm realizing while it's true that people are fundamentally who they are despite their circumstances, there are lots of small idiosyncrasies that can get changed depending on what's going on around them. Enough babbling. Here's my post:
If I moved to New York
I always assumed that Boston would be a brief layover in my life. I'd come here for college, maybe stay for a year afterwards. And then I'd head to back to New York. Not the Long Island where I grew up--I'd live in Manhattan. I'd probably share an apartment with my best friend from high school. We'd be working in publishing, so we'd eat lots of pb&js and mac and cheese. We'd save our money for the important things: going out. To bars, to concerts, to everything. We'd spend summer weekends in the Hamptons, invited by guys who fell in love with us instantly. But we wouldn't be worried about loving them. We'd just love their house, their car that could get us out of the sweltering city for a few days. We'd be in (platonic) love with each other, and with life.
In my imaginations, I never think about the fact that we'd probably have to live in a sketchy neighborhood, that we'd probably have mice, and that she did live this life and is no longer someone I want to be best friends with.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Bug & the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
My friend Mary at work is about to have a baby, and I organized her office shower. I decided to buy her a lot of baby books from our office to furnish her baby library. One I chose was: Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
This seemed apt to me this morning when I was walking my lovely Chloe and I noticed that her stomach was pooched out a bit. The more I looked at it, I realized it was pooched out a lot. So I took her home. She wouldn't eat. I called the vet, who said to bring her in immediately. Apparently bloat is a big problem in dogs, and it can be caused by some serious intestinal problems that can be deadly. So, Brian, Chloe, and I go rushing off to the vet. But before we even get to the car, I fall down the stairs, which were slippery from the rain.
The vet discovers that all of Chloe's bloat (thankfully) is caused by pounds and pounds of food in her stomach--apparently she got into her food bag last night. So $300 later... Chloe and I have to walk home because Brian needed to drop us off and get to work. In the middle of our walk, it starts hailing.
Then I get home and figure, well, one good thing is that I can spend the rest of the afternoon working at home (Chloe can't be left alone yet). And then I discover I can't! I have a work deadline that I can't miss. So now Brian has to come home, and I have to go to work.
Is it Saturday yet??
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Chuggin along
I also read the story aloud, which helped me recognize some wording issues. I'm too tired now, but I need to edit out a bunch of times when characters smile during conversations, and when they stare at things. I have way too many of those. Then I'll do another read aloud and hopefully it'll be ready to send to my mentor.