Not a big realization--or a new realization--but something I was thinking about today.
On days that I work, or, I should say, the nights before the days that I work, I plan on writing in the morning before I go to work. But this never happens. I make my lunch or I read or I listen to the radio. As I am doing these other things I am telling myself that I will write for a bit after I make my lunch or read or listen to the radio--or that I should be writing instead of making my lunch or reading or listening to the radio. Then I feel guilty and can't even enjoy making lunch or reading or listening, etc. etc. This makes for a sad morning.
Then when I don't write in the morning--and as I said, I never write in the morning--I plan on writing after work. This rarely happens. I was going to say that it never happens, but I think it has happened once or twice, so "rarely" is more accurate. But even though experience tells me that this rarely happens, I still expect to write every night.
In the same way--I think I've mentioned this before--I set deadlines (for finishing a story) and I fully expect to meet them but I never do. Actually, again, "rarely do" instead of "never do". So the deadline for story #1 was the end of august, then Labor Day, then the end of September, i.e., today. The story is not finished. Now my deadline is October 7th. Will I meet it? I expect to...
Also, I am taking a class beginning on October 7th. It's with a writer I like. Most of all, though, I am taking the class to help with deadlines. I think I'll be showing two stories in class, so I should have two stories finished by the end of it.
Anyway, I should definitely have two stories finished by then--the beginning of December, I think--if I want to meet my Mildred deadline. And I will DEFINITELY meet my Mildred deadline!!!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Madeleine Is Nervous
Or maybe intimidated is a better word for it.
The story I'm working on--story #1--is very complicated, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to pull it off.
That's all I'll say for now. I'm tired.
I wrote today.
The story I'm working on--story #1--is very complicated, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to pull it off.
That's all I'll say for now. I'm tired.
I wrote today.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
A Positive Post from Madeleine
After my last post, and then Agnes's post yesterday--welcome back, Agnes!--I was determined to post something more positive today, because I was not pleased with the picture that was being painted of the two of us. That is to say, dear readers, I was prepared to LIE. I was prepared to say--no matter how the day went--that I had a GREAT day, that I felt GREAT about my writing, that the story was coming along very, very nicely.
But, in fact, I did have a great day. I did get a lot of writing done. And the story IS coming along nicely.
I spent three hours this afternoon at a cafe working on the next part of the story. I read the first four pages once and then I moved on, and I feel so much better this evening having written today than I do on days when I don't write at all.
I am hating this post, though. (That doesn't sound very positive, does it?)
I guess it's no fun for me when I succeed. Hmm...
I wrote today.
But, in fact, I did have a great day. I did get a lot of writing done. And the story IS coming along nicely.
I spent three hours this afternoon at a cafe working on the next part of the story. I read the first four pages once and then I moved on, and I feel so much better this evening having written today than I do on days when I don't write at all.
I am hating this post, though. (That doesn't sound very positive, does it?)
I guess it's no fun for me when I succeed. Hmm...
I wrote today.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Why Agnes Worries
I am back for a moment but only just as have class in 15 minutes. Sometimes I think the fact that Madeleine and I are together is total magic, other times, as when I read her post for yesterday, I think that we are an unholy, Satanic union created by the Gods of inertia. The flattering simile: Angkor Wat, as in there is something good down there, once you cut through the vines that have grown up around it. The unflattering simile: that garbage continent in the Pacific. Something is there, true, but it's not a good thing. It's a thing that kills wildlife.
The difference between Madeleine and me is that I think I am lazy, and Madeleine thinks she is crazy. I need to stop watching documentaries about fashion: how is it that these people are so driven to create something so utterly ridiculous? Maybe even morally flawed? How can I get some of that?
Smoked today.
The difference between Madeleine and me is that I think I am lazy, and Madeleine thinks she is crazy. I need to stop watching documentaries about fashion: how is it that these people are so driven to create something so utterly ridiculous? Maybe even morally flawed? How can I get some of that?
Smoked today.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Madeleine Wastes the Day
I don't know what happened today. I guess the same thing that happened all those other days when I wanted to write when I woke up in the morning, I was actually looking forward to it, but then I did not write. There are still a few hours left tonight, so maybe I will write, though that is doubtful.
So I wanted to write. I planned on writing. I didn't write.
More specifically...
I woke up early. I had to do some work from home (for my job) so I went to the cafe down the street first thing and did it. Then I finished my last Mildred post--finally--in which I said that I needed to go home and start writing. I was home by 10AM and feeling pretty good. I had accomplished a lot by 10AM and I had the whole day ahead of me. Then, instead of writing, I finished a New Yorker article I had started last night on the subway. Mistake #1. I should have started writing immediately upon my return. Then I made coffee and turned on the radio; I wanted to hear about Ted Kennedy's replacement. Mistake #2. Once the radio is on, it never goes off. I kept reading. All this time, I was telling myself, I've got plenty of time--I'll finish this and then I'll start writing.
But first I'll balance my check book and pay some bills. Why do I do this when I'm going to write? There is some deep psychological reason... Any guesses, Agnes? Readers?
Lunch time. Or nearly lunch time, but I had finished the article, and it would be easier and more practical and time-saving to make my lunch before starting to write; otherwise I would have to stop writing in an hour to make my lunch. Mistake #3 or #4. I'm losing count of my mistakes because there have already been so many. I make lunch and listen to the NPR news summary. Then the interviews on the radio show begin--I can't remember who but I listen and eat my lunch. My lunch makes me tired! I think I'll take a nap, just 15 minutes, then I'll be ready to write.
30 Minutes later, I'm up. I wish I could check my email. I try to find an open Internet connection. There aren't any. This is NOT a surprise. There are NEVER any open lines during the day and rarely any at night. But I spent time looking, anyway. Are you counting the mistakes, readers? Then it's the afternoon. I had planned on going to Chelsea to visit some galleries in the late afternoon to reward myself for my day of writing. Maybe I should go now and write when I get home... I think on this for some time, then decide that, yes, I'll go into the city now and write later. That seems like the most practical idea.
(This summary of my day, I find, is totally humiliating.)
It's now 3PM and I am on the subway going into the city. I bring my writing! I thought I would read it on the subway so that when I got home after going to galleries and before dinner, I would be ready to write. Maybe I'll even write some on the train. (An acquaintance does all of his writing on the train; he rides the subway from end-of-line to end-of-line for hours and writes until he is done for the day. I admire this dedication and discipline and wish I was the same way.) Anyway, then galleries. Two hours later, I call a friend to see if he wants to meet me for coffee. He does! We have a lovely coffee date.
6:30 I'm on my way home. I am ready and excited to write. I organized the day perfectly! Pat on the back for me. In fact, why don't I stop at the Strand on the way home, look at books. I haven't been to the Strand in a long time. And there's still so many hours left in the day.
8PM. Home. Hungry. Eggplant must be cooked tonight or it will turn in the morning. Recipe takes one hour. Delicious! Lots of cleanup. While I eat, I check my computer to see if I have Internet access. I do! Thank you B's MacBook Pro! Let me check the news...
So that was my day. It is 10:30. I just spoke to Agnes. She didn't get anything done today, either. I tell her not to worry. She worries.
I am mortified. Will this depressing summary--out there for everyone to see--make me change my wasteful ways? I hope so. I think so.
There are still a few hours left in the day--certainly enough time to finish my next paragraph, otherwise: No writing today.
So I wanted to write. I planned on writing. I didn't write.
More specifically...
I woke up early. I had to do some work from home (for my job) so I went to the cafe down the street first thing and did it. Then I finished my last Mildred post--finally--in which I said that I needed to go home and start writing. I was home by 10AM and feeling pretty good. I had accomplished a lot by 10AM and I had the whole day ahead of me. Then, instead of writing, I finished a New Yorker article I had started last night on the subway. Mistake #1. I should have started writing immediately upon my return. Then I made coffee and turned on the radio; I wanted to hear about Ted Kennedy's replacement. Mistake #2. Once the radio is on, it never goes off. I kept reading. All this time, I was telling myself, I've got plenty of time--I'll finish this and then I'll start writing.
But first I'll balance my check book and pay some bills. Why do I do this when I'm going to write? There is some deep psychological reason... Any guesses, Agnes? Readers?
Lunch time. Or nearly lunch time, but I had finished the article, and it would be easier and more practical and time-saving to make my lunch before starting to write; otherwise I would have to stop writing in an hour to make my lunch. Mistake #3 or #4. I'm losing count of my mistakes because there have already been so many. I make lunch and listen to the NPR news summary. Then the interviews on the radio show begin--I can't remember who but I listen and eat my lunch. My lunch makes me tired! I think I'll take a nap, just 15 minutes, then I'll be ready to write.
30 Minutes later, I'm up. I wish I could check my email. I try to find an open Internet connection. There aren't any. This is NOT a surprise. There are NEVER any open lines during the day and rarely any at night. But I spent time looking, anyway. Are you counting the mistakes, readers? Then it's the afternoon. I had planned on going to Chelsea to visit some galleries in the late afternoon to reward myself for my day of writing. Maybe I should go now and write when I get home... I think on this for some time, then decide that, yes, I'll go into the city now and write later. That seems like the most practical idea.
(This summary of my day, I find, is totally humiliating.)
It's now 3PM and I am on the subway going into the city. I bring my writing! I thought I would read it on the subway so that when I got home after going to galleries and before dinner, I would be ready to write. Maybe I'll even write some on the train. (An acquaintance does all of his writing on the train; he rides the subway from end-of-line to end-of-line for hours and writes until he is done for the day. I admire this dedication and discipline and wish I was the same way.) Anyway, then galleries. Two hours later, I call a friend to see if he wants to meet me for coffee. He does! We have a lovely coffee date.
6:30 I'm on my way home. I am ready and excited to write. I organized the day perfectly! Pat on the back for me. In fact, why don't I stop at the Strand on the way home, look at books. I haven't been to the Strand in a long time. And there's still so many hours left in the day.
8PM. Home. Hungry. Eggplant must be cooked tonight or it will turn in the morning. Recipe takes one hour. Delicious! Lots of cleanup. While I eat, I check my computer to see if I have Internet access. I do! Thank you B's MacBook Pro! Let me check the news...
So that was my day. It is 10:30. I just spoke to Agnes. She didn't get anything done today, either. I tell her not to worry. She worries.
I am mortified. Will this depressing summary--out there for everyone to see--make me change my wasteful ways? I hope so. I think so.
There are still a few hours left in the day--certainly enough time to finish my next paragraph, otherwise: No writing today.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Madeleine Feels the Daily Pressure...
to post on the Mildred! I am letting down our dear reader--he told me so--and I am beginning to feel bad about myself. I can't manage to do this one simple thing...
I would feel less pressure if Agnes was/were posting something on here every so often, but she isn't. No pressure, Agnes! Really. I know you are busy with more important things, but I am eager and excited for you to come back and say something as soon as you can--a hello; a quick smoking update, i.e., I smoked last night, or even better, I did NOT smoke last night; a bit of something that you forgot to tell me on the phone or in an email or that could be shared with the devoted reader(s) of this blog (see my mention of the new sugar bowl of a few days ago); in short, anything that would fill up some space on this blog and give us all something new to read.
Plus you're such a good writer and I like the counterpoint. (Did I use that word correctly?)
Anyway, I started this entry TWO DAYS AGO with the intention of finishing it and posting it that night, then I added some things yesterday and was going to post it last night, but same old story--no Internet access, no B's MacBook Pro, work was very busy. I am going to try going to the nearby cafe in the mornings before work to get back to posting every day (if I ever did). Or I could quit my job and post every day; that would really be the best and happiest solution...
But going back to the first paragraph of this post... This is the same conversation that goes on inside my head every day of my life (that's a bit melodramatic, i know)--I need to write today; I need to write today; I still have a few hours left in the day to get some writing done today; I NEED TO WRITE TODAY!!!; I didn't write today!; why didn't I write today???; everybody else wrote today--even people with little children wrote today--what is wrong with me???; writers write every day! why don't I write every day? am I really a writer?
And on and on and on...
And going back to the paragraph before the last one--if I quit my job, would I write every day? I think not. I might feel more pressure to write and thus write less often.
I often have those romantic ideas (everybody has them, I guess)--quit my job and write, move someplace exotic and write, go into isolation and write--but I know none of those fantasy plans would work...
There's always some date in the future--after some life-altering event--when everything will change and I'll sudeenly be a real writer...
Anyhow, enough of that. And everyone wants to hear more about the dreaded paragraph, I'm sure. Did he go back to it? Did he change it? Is it really finished?
I can report, readers, that I have not changed the paragraph in the days since I finished it. I consider this a huge victory. I have read it many times and am very pleased with it. This is a different type of problem, though, that is also very familiar. I am fetishizing the paragraph! I read it and read it--out loud and to myself--instead of moving on and writing the next paragraph. In fact, by reading and re-reading it I begin to feel like I am actually writing--but of course I'm not actually writing. Is this clear? Now I feel like I have to stop writing this blog post and go write my story.
I plan on working on the next paragraph today. I don't think it's going to be as hard as the last paragraph. I can already see where I am going to run into problems (like the last paragraph) again later in the story. Perhaps that is why I am putting off moving on, etc. Obviously that is why...
Note the language I use in the last paragraph--"working on," "problems". Our dear reader would say that THIS is the problem. I treat my writing as if it is a chore, something to be DONE instead of something to be enjoyed. Right, dear reader? Agnes? Please comment on this. I will investigate this further some other time.
No writing last night--0r any night since Monday.
I would feel less pressure if Agnes was/were posting something on here every so often, but she isn't. No pressure, Agnes! Really. I know you are busy with more important things, but I am eager and excited for you to come back and say something as soon as you can--a hello; a quick smoking update, i.e., I smoked last night, or even better, I did NOT smoke last night; a bit of something that you forgot to tell me on the phone or in an email or that could be shared with the devoted reader(s) of this blog (see my mention of the new sugar bowl of a few days ago); in short, anything that would fill up some space on this blog and give us all something new to read.
Plus you're such a good writer and I like the counterpoint. (Did I use that word correctly?)
Anyway, I started this entry TWO DAYS AGO with the intention of finishing it and posting it that night, then I added some things yesterday and was going to post it last night, but same old story--no Internet access, no B's MacBook Pro, work was very busy. I am going to try going to the nearby cafe in the mornings before work to get back to posting every day (if I ever did). Or I could quit my job and post every day; that would really be the best and happiest solution...
But going back to the first paragraph of this post... This is the same conversation that goes on inside my head every day of my life (that's a bit melodramatic, i know)--I need to write today; I need to write today; I still have a few hours left in the day to get some writing done today; I NEED TO WRITE TODAY!!!; I didn't write today!; why didn't I write today???; everybody else wrote today--even people with little children wrote today--what is wrong with me???; writers write every day! why don't I write every day? am I really a writer?
And on and on and on...
And going back to the paragraph before the last one--if I quit my job, would I write every day? I think not. I might feel more pressure to write and thus write less often.
I often have those romantic ideas (everybody has them, I guess)--quit my job and write, move someplace exotic and write, go into isolation and write--but I know none of those fantasy plans would work...
There's always some date in the future--after some life-altering event--when everything will change and I'll sudeenly be a real writer...
Anyhow, enough of that. And everyone wants to hear more about the dreaded paragraph, I'm sure. Did he go back to it? Did he change it? Is it really finished?
I can report, readers, that I have not changed the paragraph in the days since I finished it. I consider this a huge victory. I have read it many times and am very pleased with it. This is a different type of problem, though, that is also very familiar. I am fetishizing the paragraph! I read it and read it--out loud and to myself--instead of moving on and writing the next paragraph. In fact, by reading and re-reading it I begin to feel like I am actually writing--but of course I'm not actually writing. Is this clear? Now I feel like I have to stop writing this blog post and go write my story.
I plan on working on the next paragraph today. I don't think it's going to be as hard as the last paragraph. I can already see where I am going to run into problems (like the last paragraph) again later in the story. Perhaps that is why I am putting off moving on, etc. Obviously that is why...
Note the language I use in the last paragraph--"working on," "problems". Our dear reader would say that THIS is the problem. I treat my writing as if it is a chore, something to be DONE instead of something to be enjoyed. Right, dear reader? Agnes? Please comment on this. I will investigate this further some other time.
No writing last night--0r any night since Monday.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Madeleine Rewrites the Paragraph
Yes, readers, I rewrote the paragraph AGAIN--the same paragraph I said I was finally finished with a few days ago. I didn't want to rewrite it, but I couldn't stop myself, and I certainly couldn't write the next paragraph or any other part of the story until I was satisfied. So I worked on it for several hours this afternoon at Agnes's apartment.
Then I biked over to Agnes's studio and read the first four pages of the story to Agnes, including the newest version of the perturbing paragraph, and she liked them--and I did, too.
Now I think I really am finished with it and ready to move on.
Really.
Then I biked over to Agnes's studio and read the first four pages of the story to Agnes, including the newest version of the perturbing paragraph, and she liked them--and I did, too.
Now I think I really am finished with it and ready to move on.
Really.
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