Snippets

April 24

The best way to do this, I think, is snippets.

*

This weekend Heather and I (see the proper grammatical structure there, Heather? I did that for your mom) had pears, brie, toasted French bread, and chardonnay. It felt so incredibly poetic. We could have been in Provence or something, impoverished expatriate writers enjoying a small indulgence. More and more, I think small indulgences are one of the keys to happiness. After the essentials are out of the way-- enough food, a place to live, some kind of useful work-- it's little things that make the difference.

I have always been something of a devotee of small pleasures. Small does not mean insignificant. Not at all.

*

I was driving up to the Bay Area on Friday, thinking about Rangergirl. I haven't done any sustained work on that novel lately-- I've been poetrying instead. But while I crawled along through the glacial flow of traffic, I had my mind free, and I've figured out a lot of stuff about the book. The ambiguities. The villains. The progression of events. The motivations.

I'm also thinking about my next book, which will feature a Trickster figure, of sorts (though he truly is more ectype than archetype). The book Marissa gave me (Trickster Makes This World by Lewis Hyde) is getting me ever more excited about that. I've only read the first chapter, but it's a pretty interesting book, and very accessibly written.

Me and Marissa have been talking about nonfiction lately. She wants to write nonfiction (and indeed, she does), but as for me... I don't, really. I love reading nonfiction, and if I didn't read nonfiction widely I wouldn't write anywhere near as much. I sometimes do directed research, but more often I just graze serendipitously-- lately I've read that Bryson book, and I'm reading about omens and superstitions, and now about Tricksters. I pick up Brewer's almost daily and flip through it, picking up strange little tidbits of information, facts that float around in my head and occasionally combine with other facts in really weird ways. And yet, as much as I love good nonfiction, I really have no desire at all to write it. When I study a subject, I think "Wow! I can use that in a story or a poem!" Everything is processed through those avenues.

I'm capable of writing decent nonfiction (and, obviously, I don't count this journal-- I don't know what this is, but it's not the kind of nonfiction I'm talking about, not even close). I did a lot of nonfiction writing in college, obviously. But on my own... it's just not an impulse I have. I used to, I think-- I used to write essays in high school, not for assignments, but just for myself.

Ah, well. Maybe someday I'll want to write nonfiction. Or perhaps not.

*

I figured out who the last villain of my novel is-- the third-string villain, sort of, whose role is small but incredibly vital. His name is Denis. He dreams of machines that grind. He is a deeply creepy guy. I'm looking forward to writing his scenes.

*

I am famously bad on the telephone. When I talk to people on the phone-- beyond the "Hey, I'll meet you at the bar" level-- I apparently sound cranky, grumpy, vague, disinterested, or annoyed. I'm usually not any of those things; I'm just distracted. I'm easily distractable on the phone. On some level, I have trouble believing that the wisp of sound on the other end of the line is a person, and I sometimes don't pay close enough attention, even when I want very much to talk to the person. I'm just not good on the phone. I've learned to overcome this with Meg, pretty much, though I still get antsy after too long on the phone.

Last night a friend called, needing to talk... and we talked for hours. Hours and hours. Wonderful talk. Talk like I've never had on the phone, only in person. I broke through that conceptual barrier, somehow, and it was okay, like my friend was right beside me. Only there's a distance to phone conversations that makes it easier to say some things, things it might be difficult to say in person.

So, I'm not converted. But I'm no longer totally anti-phone.

*

Hmm. There's more. So much more. So many bits and pieces, ideas and thoughts. Poems, stories, life, worries. But this is getting long. More later.