Monday, June 26, 2006

Monday, June 26, 2006
Waxing Moon
Jupiter Retrograde
Pluto Retrograde
Neptune Retrograde
Uranus Retrograde
Rainy, hot, humid

Whirlwind of a weekend, but I’ll try to sort it out.

The Situation continues to twist and turn, leaving us twisting in the wind. On top of that, on Friday, someone I considered a friend over the past months broke my trust. Fortunately, in the scheme of things, it wasn’t anything that needs damage control; however, in the scheme of my universe, it was upsetting.

It made me realize how much the group over at the 100 Days meditation has helped. Normally, it would have been hours of tears followed by weeks or months of depression. With the work I’ve done at 100 Days, I could recognize, acknowledge, and, to an extent, let go. People are going to do what they’re going to do; this person did something he felt was right – even though it ended up being awkward and hurtful. There was no malice involved.

The short-term effect, of course, when someone breaks my trust, is doubt, especially about self-worth – I must not be worth keeping the trust, or it wouldn’t have been broken. Which is complete and utter crap on a rational level, but we’re not always rational when emotion is involved. Then that, of course, becomes doubt about the writing, and it gets ugly.

Too damn bad. I’m a writer, and that’s it.

Managed to get seven pages done on Real. They’re still in Tahiti. But at least they’re developing the way they’re supposed to. I’m almost at the two thirds point of the book. The last third certainly won’t gallop, but since I have an idea of where I’m headed, it’s all good.

Also did a four page newsletter – a complicated one – that has to go out this week.

And I managed to get through and deal with 473 non-spam emails.

Nothing like dinner where you have to be charming with a bunch of people you don’t know – and some of whom, once you know them, you’d rather not know. Instead of a little black dress, I wore a little green dress. It was a large, mixed group. Some of the women annoyed me: Very impressed with themselves, thinking themselves big-city glam (believe me, they’re not), and looking down their brand new noses at some of the other women in the group, just because those women came from little teeny towns. Can you guess who I hung out with? The good ones, with a great sense of humour, from the small towns, who are comfortable in their own skins, but excited to see a place to which they’d never traveled.

I love hotel rooms. To me, they represent both anonymity and possibility.

I’m lugging Rebecca West’s enormous volume of collected letters around, because I’m deep into it, and didn’t want to leave it behind. It’s a good way to unwind. Plus, I have Alexandra Johnson’s Leaving a Trace: On Keeping a Journal, which is wonderful, and may need to be added to my required reading for the journal class, along with her other book, The Hidden Writer.

I managed to catch the first of the PBS series Faith and Reason. Salman Rushdie was interviewed. It got me back on track, as far as self-belief. He talked a great deal about the artist’s responsibility to tell the artist’s truth, and about dreaming and imagination and the need for cultures to understand each other, and how all oppression against writers needs to be stopped. I agree. As Eileen pointed out in her response to my Thursday entry, in this country, writers are, once again, getting oppressed for disagreement with the government. Rushdie points out that it is no accident that freedom of religion and freedom of speech are covered in the same amendment. I hadn’t thought about it that way before. And any fundamentalism doesn’t want free speech or free thought, because then, the fundamentalists lose control.

Rushdie’s words made me realize that yes, I am on the right path. It makes sense that something like my trust getting broken would happen along the way. I spoke a truth that raises a possibility that frightened the other person, and he responded the only way he could, because his world can’t encompass that possibility. It’s too overwhelming.

(Don’t worry, it has nothing to do with romance – this was strictly on another topic).

The series promises to be fascinating – Mary Gordon is interviewed next week. I may have to clear the next few Friday evenings at nine pm to watch this series. It certainly came into my life at the best possible time.

Saturday morning, I woke up having dreamed about this year’s National Novel Writing Month. I’d pretty much decided not to do it – as much as I loved the community last year, the process frustrated me. And I still haven’t finished The Fix-It Girl – I burned out in the first 50,000 words and lost track of it. But I’ve been thinking about all the notes I did for Amadeus Doe, and how that story has stayed on the edges of my consciousness since last fall. If I do sign up this year, I need to drop my competitiveness with myself about the 50,000 words, and simply use it as a place to write my piece within a community of other writers.

I saw a job listing for an editing job in Paris that I really, really want. The work part, I could handle. The language – my French just isn’t good enough. Oh, well. Plus, I don’t think they’d hire an American even with fluent French – it’s a very Euro-centric publication.

I thought my busy-ness for Saturday would begin at one, but it began much, much later, so I had the bulk of the day to write – thank goodness.

12 pages on Real. They’re back in the UK, but I had a heck of a time figuring out where the two protagonists were going to stay for the six week studio shoot at Shepperton. It’s close enough to London to commute (which is what many actors do), but Callie needs to be closer than that type of commute, and she wants some peace and quiet. So I hunted around and found a self-catering cottage in Old Windsor. I can’t use the actual cottage in the book, but at least I know they exist there, and I could use it as an inspiration.

Also roughed out the next few months’ work of the Dog Blog, so I don’t fall behind, and roughed out the outlines for three e-books.

The draft started later than I expected, and can I just say the first round was torture? Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap. Each team is supposed to have three minutes from when the name is announced to come up to the podium and pick their kid. However, they use those three minutes to make last minute trades and deals. Too much posturing, not enough attention on the kids – for them it’s a milestone moment in their lives. I was disgusted. I strongly believe the draft should not be changed in order to cater to an audience, but yesterday’s posturing and big dick-ism was out of control. It didn’t come across at all as a bunch of professionals working hard to build the best team possible. It came across that they didn’t know what the hell they were doing, and hadn’t done their homework.

“My” top eight – Peter Mueller (who I think is the best of the players to be drafted this year), Derrick Brassard, Michael Frolik, Semen Varlamov, Cory Emmerton, David Fischer, Mike Forney, and Michael Grabner were all drafted, along with my additional picks Phil Kessel, Claude Giroux, Logan Pyett, Nick Dodge, and Hugo Carpentier.

You’ll just have to read my article on FemmeFan to find out more!

All seven rounds were done in one day, instead of spreading them out over two.

I rarely criticize hockey – except for Bettman, who’s a regular metaphorical punching bag for me ever since his disgusting anti-labor comments at the Nashville ’03 draft – but yesterday, I found a lot to criticize.

I was ready to hit the bar by the fourth pick.

Sunday morning, I got my article written and off to FemmeFan, early in the morning. Instead of having to muck around waiting for the final rounds, I could wind it all up and get back to my other work.

Almost worth moving to Rhode Island: a billboard on the side if I-95 that reads: “Do your patriotic duty. Impeach Bush.”

Right on!

To think that someone cared enough to buy a billboard for that! Way to go, Person from Rhode Island!

It’s so rainy and humid I feel damp all the time and as though everything around me is getting moldy. Ick.

I caught up on my clip files – I hadn’t printed out anything I’ve published all year. I was under the impression I hadn’t published much, but it turns out there are seven articles on FemmeFan, three columns, and three short stories, so it wasn’t as unproductive as I thought.

I spent several hours rewriting the text for the Devon Ellington site, and then 5 ½ hours coding it. You see, I couldn’t close anything in Notepad until it was all done – because my computer won’t open Notepad. I can create something in Notepad, but I can’t save it as a .txt file if I ever want to get into it again. And I can’t edit when I save as HTML. So all my mistakes will have to be edited once it goes live. Ick. And, believe me, I made a LOT of mistakes, and some of them were pretty stupid. Oh, well.

It hurts behind the shoulder blade, my arm and shoulder are sore, and my eyes are tired. But I wrote and coded twelve pages!

Once the kinks are worked out with the DE site, hopefully the Fearless Ink site will at least seem easier!

I’m still behind in correspondence, and only got ½ page of Real done yesterday. I also have a stack of work to do on Circadian, 13 Journals, et al. And a couple of press releases to write and . . .

Better hop to it.

Someone tried to open an old wound. So I stepped out of reach. Wish I’d figured that one out years ago!



At 9:30 AM, Blogger Lara said...

Holy Cow! What a weekend! I got tired just reading about it!

I was sick in bed with my back out. Didn't get a damn thing done. Here's to a productive week! I hope things go smoothly for you...

At 12:22 PM, Blogger Ann said...

Wow - do you clone yourself on weekends? I get breathless just reading this blog - how on earth do you do it?


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