Can Madeleine Turn the Corner?

A few weeks ago, we went to see Philip Johnson's Glass House. Actually I took Agnes for her birthday. We took a tour of the house(s) and the property. The glass house and the property were pretty amazing, but the rest of it not so much. The other buildings were not buildings that I wanted to be inside--that is to say that the minute I stepped inside them I wanted to be outside them. And the way he displayed his art... But all of that is for some other blog.

I want to talk about our tour guide, Tricia, sometimes Trish, who was wonderful and knowledgeable and clearly did not have such a high opinion of Philip Johnson. Agnes and I spent the tour and after wondering about Tricia's life: She's British; what is she doing here in the middle of Connecticut? She is SO brilliant and enjoyable; why is she giving tours at the Philip Johnson house, especially since she doesn't seem to like the man? Is she married? Kids? Lesbian? Isabelle Huppert could play her in the movie, no, Jane Lynch.

Anyway, at some point she told a story about Mies van der Rohe visiting Philip Johnson in the Glass House for the first time. The evening was going fine but ended badly when Mies looked at the corner of the house and said to PJ, "You never could turn the corner." (And it's true; the corners of the Glass House ain't pretty.)

I have been thinking about this quote a lot lately in terms of my writing. (Agnes is sick of hearing about it, I'm sure. And maybe it's a dumb analogy, but I'm going with it.) For me and maybe for most people the difficulty in writing a story is getting it to feel seamless and unexpected at the same time. And, specifically, right now with Story #1, which is a long story that starts in one place and ends up somewhere completely different, I find that I'm always trying to turn the corner, trying to make it from one section to the next without having the entire story fall apart. If i miss a turn...okay, I need to turn the corner on THIS...

I was with it for awhile there but now I've lost whatever it is that I was trying to say. Maybe that's the best illustration of what I was trying to say.

My point is that after being so convinced of the movement of this story, the plot, the path, whatever, for a very long time, last night I suddenly had lots of doubts. Maybe because I have to finish it soon, I don't know, but the whole thing seems so improbable and dumb.

I don't know... Was this a silly entry? Was Agnes's better today? Probably. (FYI: those are doubts, readers. Another illustration.)

But I'm so glad Agnes is back if only to give you all something decent to read. To give ME something decent to read. And for another way to communicate with her. Call me, Agnes.

I wrote last night. And tonight, too, I hope.