Sunday, August 2, 2015

2 August, 2012: a woman in a shimmering dress

August 2nd, 2012 is the day upon which I wrote the first page of the first draft of the novel I call Mona in the Desert. Three years later, I am working on the fourth (I think) revision of that book. If things go well in the coming months, a couple of very nice people will have a draft of the book to read around Christmas. We'll see. There is a lot of work to be done before anyone can see it. I'm surprised that it was three years ago that I began writing this one, but then again I do like to let drafts sit around while I think about other things. Anyway, I'll be reading a lot less for a while, giving over all of that reading time to revisions of my novel.

I admit that I've been putting off these revisions for about two months, I think. I have been afraid to look at the MS for fear that the book is idiotic (part of a growing tendency to think that all human utterances are merely shouting about the shadows in Plato's cave, and mostly meaningless), and also for fear that if it's anything like a good book, I might screw it up by fussing with it. The usual fears, that is.

But who cares about my mood swings? I'm going to get cracking on the novel anyway, with my fist full of notes and ideas and my red and black pens and my private jokes to wedge into the narrative. I was poking around at random through the MS last week, and some of it looks pretty good, so why not why not why not?

2 comments:

  1. why not indeed! even if humans are meaningless, they have to have something to occupy the time, and reading is better than starting wars, from a limited, species oriented perspective. good reading is one of the very few things that are worthwhile, as we all believe; honing the sense of reality is like whittling a pencil: life works better when it has a point, even though it may be a nonsensical endeavor.

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    1. Some people seem to think life works better when it's a smorgasbord of fattening treats in which one rolls around in a clownlike manner. I am not one of those people, but I understand the impulse. Anyway, writing novels is a harmless enough hobby and it gives me something to blog about.

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