Two updates!
Writing
Beta Reading
Sometime last month I sent a preliminary draft of KMDC to a writer friend who has literally witnessed this project from the very beginning. And about a week ago I sent off the beta draft of KMDC to a few trusted ladies up in Boston. My parents currently have copies loaded on their kindles, and, to complete my Arsenal of Critique, I’ve enlisted another novelist in a trade of manuscripts. (the lovely J.M. Johnson, who you should follow on Twitter. Also, check our her blog).
My Two Favorite Men
You know how it’s a bit of a trope for the sad, single girl/gay to flop down next to their best friend (usually the main character with a love interest half-developed by now) and say, “I’ve got a date tonight with my two favorite men! Ben…and Jerry!” And we all laugh at the simmering hilarity that is self-indulgent, sugary melancholy?
Here at the Bottom
When I write, I generally keep a scene outline at the bottom of my document. As I figure things out and make edits, this outline tends to accumulate into a chapter outline, then a section outline, then eventually a book outline. It looms beneath my cursor like some sort of stupid, static dirigible, feeding me hints as I encroach on its content, and bumping itself down obediently as I progress.
On Resolutions
There’s something sickly about resolutions. I think it has to do with the way they’re made; either uttered furtively or pronounced with great enthusiasm (but always as a shamed self-reprimand), and they’re always precipitated by something arbitrary. I mean that as: it isn’t your weight, or how you feel about your size, but the time of year that drums up your resolution. It isn’t your generally aloof nature, or your family’s naturally sparse dynamic, but the death of a cousin that makes you resolve to stay in touch.
The Good Things of January 23, 2014
So many great things happened today! Here they are, listed, for your accessing pleasure:
Chocolate Therapy
So a few nights ago I was working at the ice cream shop. A grandmother brought in her two little girls, and the older one ordered the flavor called Chocolate Therapy. Seeing this, the younger one also ordered Chocolate Therapy, to which the grandmother (who had the best, bright red blow-out since David Bowie), gasped and said, “Why, I didn’t know you were a chocolate therapy girl!” The little sister seemed to read a pejorative meaning into the exclamation (shame on you grandma!) and so, thinking I’d be helping, I whispered huskily over the counter, “I, too, am a chocolate therapy girl.”
Necessary Frenzy
I’m curious about how many writers are full time in their writing, and how many hold down some other ‘traditional’ role (such as, I imagine, hair dressing, or manning the salad bar at Hometown Buffet). A writer friend of mine and I aways giggle at the writers who, online, allude to their lifestyle that is undefined by any obligations save their manuscript (read: unemployed) while also somehow managing to avoid publication ardently. What do they do? What do they want to do? What is that like? Is it deadening? It sounds deadening.
Think Of All the Blogs
Think of all the blogs. The abandoned ones specifically. The emaciated, pocked, forgotten vessels littered across the virtual ether, with a few heartfelt sentences rattling around in their dead bellies, with long shadows turned velvety in the crepuscular light.