I've decided to stop working on the novel this Sunday.
It is driving me nuts, the combination of putting my life on hold while, at the same time, only making the slightest progress with lots of effort. It doesn't mean I'm giving up on the novel, only that I'm putting it on the shelf while I start the job search in earnest. I also need to start exercising again. Imagine a strange, immobile sea creature that rests on the ocean floor, eating bits of stray fishbones and the occasional starfish. That creature? That's me right now.
This doesn't mean I'm done with the novel, only that I'm letting it ferment for a time while I take care of other matters of increasingly vital concern. It also means that I can start acting like a human being again, I hope.
*
I'm going to fry up the alligator I bought, frozen, weeks at SS Lobster and serve it with roasted potatoes and bean sprouts. I'll let you know how it goes.
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You can't stop unless you've got something you'll let other people read... so when can we read it? :)
ReplyDeleteI'm going to shelve it and do one more draft after I've taken care of a few pressing matters: my teaching license, job applications, and getting back in shape among them.
ReplyDeleteIf all goes well, I'll have a draft sufficient to show people by this summer. The process is painfully slow in nearly all respects. Unless someone can loan me a remote mountain cabin for a week, this is going to take awhile.
unfortunate, but makes total sense to me. I've always thought that the popular conception of great art coming from poverty was a bourgeois conceit. IT certainly doesn't come from privileged wealth most of the time, but when your day is dominated by wondering if you can scratch a lunch together from an empty pantry, the aesthetic issues turn into background noise. Get your crap done and get back to it, man. I need summer reading material from a brand I've come to trust...
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