I write this blog when I’m full of shit to say and the dog is asleep. Once the semester starts, I talk a lot: in front of class, to colleagues, to students I tutor. So when I’m not talking in front of/to people, my impulse is to bury myself in silence.
How’s your manuscript? Well, it’s going okay. I ignored it for a few days. Then I decided to do some freewrites in my notebook based on something I’ve already written. One of my (many) problems is that the polished stuff is so polished writing-wise that I can’t break it open to write more. So writing in the notebook helps, because it is away from the page, and my handwriting is so terrible that I can’t tell how bad the writing itself is.
I wrote two and a half pages yesterday. The first page was abysmal. The second page was better and then I got it. The happy awake aroused feeling of getting the real shit on the page.
Then today I wrote half a blog post about how I was worried I would never finish The Fucker. After I deleted it, I went to the library to cram a bunch of stuff about rhetoric and rhetorical analysis in my head for tomorrow’s class. Then I wrote two more long-hand pages. All of this was before noon today.
I’m still fucked. But I’m moving forward.
A few other odds and ends:
Yesterday was the birthday of Cubby Clause, Cougar’s youngest child. She is the ripe old age of 30. Can you imagine? And of course we’re all still thinking about Sarah W., and hoping she is well enough to watch Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. by Thursday, because if I have no one to live text about it, I will cry. DO YOU HEAR THAT SARAH W? Don’t make big tough Indy Clause cry.
There was an amazing eclipse yesterday, running water on Mars, and soon there will be running water in my dry region, because it’s going to rain later this week if we believe the National Weather Service (which we do)!
Please send me your editorial/grammar/writing process/poetry questions because I’m clearly running out of things to say.