Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Waning Moon
Saturn Retrograde
Venus Retrograde
Cloudy and cool


Tired.

Glad I finished the first draft of Shallid. I need to let it sit a few days before I start typing.

Adapted the first scene of Glam Hearts into novel form. It’s fun, but it’s a slow process. And, I realized that I have to open it out more. Because it started life as a radio play, and had only six performers, I made sure everything could be handled by those six. Now, I have to add in more of the people with which these characters interact – without letting the cast grow too large, as I have a tendency to do. I have to let the adaptation take its own pace. The pace of the piece is quick, light and bright, but the adaptation process is slow. It makes an interesting juxtaposition.

Life With Aunt Dot has been renamed Hearth Phoenix. Hearth Phoenix is actually the title of a non-fiction project that I recently decided to scrap for various personal reasons. However, I loved the title and didn’t want to lose the title. It fits this project, and now that I have the right title, the project flows. It’s a tough one to write, because of the person emotional buttons it pushes. I don’t know if it will ever end up to be something publishable – all I know is that, for my own peace of mind, I need to write it, and I’m able to reach the emotional truth of its core better in fiction than I ever could have in non-fiction.

Day work was fine yesterday, though there was much additional lifting of clothing due to painted dressing rooms, and my arm hurts like crazy. Today’s grocery shop and hauling the bags up three flights of stairs didn’t help, either. Oh, well.

Finished Julia Briggs’s fascinating book Virginia Woolf: An Inner Life. It makes me realize how much I use writers’ diaries in the course of my writing day as fuel when I get tired. In the Manhattan apartment, I had ever so many writers’ diaries, and one was always next to my work table. When I began to fade, I could pick it up and read a few pages and get re-inspired. Unfortunately, they’re all in storage now, where I can’t get at them.

Today is both Virginia Woolf’s birthday and Robert Burns night. Later this afternoon, I’ll post some tributes on Circadian. Yesterday’s entry was late because I had a ten minute window before leaving for work, and, of course, Blogger wasn’t working. No Ink, no Circadian, no nothing. Oh, well.

I’d like to get back to the Clear the Slot revisions, too.

I’ve got a pot roast simmering on the stove, which is cheerful on a dull, gray January day. I’m a bit down – I know why and I know how to solve it, but I’m not sure how to get there. Mostly stress and exhaustion.

I’ve been listening primarily to classical music lately – Mozart, Bach, Schumann – there’s a reason it’s still so popular. It also makes me realize that my music collection lacks enough classics. Eventually, I’ll treat myself to some more CDs. It doesn’t have to happen right this minute. What I have serves its purpose.

The man sitting ahead of me on the train home last night concerned me. He’s at least ten years younger than I am, but overweight. His skin was an odd shade of red – and not from being out in the sun. Underlying the red was a blue-gray tinge that made me think he would keel over at any second. I’m sure the extra-tall beers he downed at an alarming rate didn’t help, either. He wasn’t obnoxious or anything like that at all – there was just something about him that made me worry for his health. But I couldn’t exactly lean forward and say to a stranger, “Please go to a doctor as soon as you get off the train” because that’s just inappropriate and unfair. Hopefully, he’s going home to someone who will see/sense the same thing I did and urge him to go.

Unfocused and restless today. I’m usually like that right after finishing a long draft. Ah, to be like Anthony Trollope! He wrote each morning. If he finished a book within his designated writing session, he pulled a new sheet of paper towards him and started the next one.

The scents of meat, onion, garlic, bay, thyme, rosemary, and oregano waft through the air. Already I feel better.

Scruffy Dog Blog will go up later today, once I’ve sorted out what I actually want to say. I have several ideas, but need to figure out which is the most useful and relevant.

Devon

1 Comments:

At 2:55 PM, Blogger Lara said...

Mmmm, I do pot roast every other Sunday--it's the BEST smell, isn't it?

I have been listening to a lot of classical lately too. We have XM satellite radio, and my favorites are the 40's station and the classical station. It's so calming and inspiring--a writer's must have!
Enjoy your roast--and your day!

 

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