New Year, New Blog
So this is my new blog. It's been a little more than a year since I started writing it, and now I'm starting fresh. Maybe because it's almost the Jewish New Year. But mostly because I'm fleeing my cyberstalkers. I have to spiff up this blog a little. It's kind of plain and annoying.
I haven't been writing a lot in my blog, which is a bad thing. I've been feeling overwhelmed by so much in my life. It feels like everything in my life is on one big collision course. And not the fun kind of collision course with monster trucks and demolition-derby cars like you'd find at the L.A. County Fair. Man, I want to go to the L.A. County Fair...
I reached the 40,000-word mark with my novel last week. I have class tonight and haven't written anything for it. I might bring in something old. I might bring in nothing. But I'm still going to class. I only have three classes left. I suggested to a few of the people in the class that we start a writing group after the class ends in three weeks. There are some really amazing writers in there (two are not so good). This woman Patricia is my favorite. She's the L.A. correspondent for the DAILY TRIBUNE in Ireland. She's got a thick Irish accent and a very wicked sense of humor, on-target and wry.
I'm reading Patricia Highsmith's STRANGERS ON A TRAIN (1950). The novel from which Hitchcock made his 1951 film of the same name. I don't have that much more to go. Highsmith was such an incredible writer (even though she was a hateful person and anti-Semitic). What is it they say? Nice guys finish last? I don't believe it.
Anyway, reading this book has made me rethink a lot of my writing and the ways I describe and portray characters--both physically and mentally. It's gross to say, but a few pages in she mentions a huge pimple in the middle of this guy's forehead. The way she describes it--and the way she describes the protagonist's reaction to it--is incredible. It sets up the antagonist in such simple terms and sets the tone for that character for the rest of the book. The novel is amazing--and it was her very first novel.
Also, there are a couple of murders in the book, and the way she writes those scenes, well, as a reader you end up *wanting* the murders to happen. I was on the edge of my seat (well, the edge of my bed), and my heart was pounding. The scene on the island at the amusement park is especially unsettling and awesome. I never saw the movie, so everything in this book is new to me.
One criticism: The way Highsmith shifts the point of view in the novel at the beginning is a bit clumsy. I forgive that, though, because then the omniscient POV really works for the rest of the book. Oh, also: Once in a while she stays too long in a character's head, which delays the action somewhat.
I have to drive to Woodland Hills in a couple of hours to pick up a check. Then I'm going to buy two new shirts so that I'll have something decent to wear to High Holydays at my temple. Rosh Hashanah starts on Friday. I have no nice clothes. It's crazy. The last time I bought new clothes was a couple of months ago: two T-shirts and a pair of men's cargo shorts from Target. I've been dressin' like a bum for way too long. I don't have a ton of money right now, so I was going to go to a thrift store. But the thought of that depressed me. I'm going to try to find something halfway decent at Old Navy.
A few days ago I ordered food online for my mother again; looks like it'll be a once-a-week adventure for me. They messed up her order again: They gave her regular-flavored Boost instead of vanilla, and they brought five six-packs instead of six. And they screwed up other stuff as well. I talked her into ordering some fruits and vegetables: one cucumber, a head of Bibb lettuce, and three nectarines. She said, "Those were the biggest nectarines I've seen in my life!" She's not doing very well these days, and she barely eats. But she's drinking that Boost like it was water. So that's something.
Yesterday she said something about dying, that she had nothing to live for. I started crying and told her that she had me to live for, that I couldn't go on if she died. She said, "Well, you'd have to go on." I agreed but then said, "Remember when your mom died? That's how I would feel." My mother has never gotten over the death of her mother, even though my grandma died in 1976. A week or so after my grandma died, my mother was lying in bed and saw her in her bedroom mirror one night. I'll always remember that.
Here's something strange and delightful: Yesterday I got a writing assignment from a horror magazine to interview a big-time horror/vampire novelist. I actually know the author and pitched the idea to the magazine. The deadline for turning it in isn't until March, but I want to get it done much sooner.
I haven't been writing a lot in my blog, which is a bad thing. I've been feeling overwhelmed by so much in my life. It feels like everything in my life is on one big collision course. And not the fun kind of collision course with monster trucks and demolition-derby cars like you'd find at the L.A. County Fair. Man, I want to go to the L.A. County Fair...
I reached the 40,000-word mark with my novel last week. I have class tonight and haven't written anything for it. I might bring in something old. I might bring in nothing. But I'm still going to class. I only have three classes left. I suggested to a few of the people in the class that we start a writing group after the class ends in three weeks. There are some really amazing writers in there (two are not so good). This woman Patricia is my favorite. She's the L.A. correspondent for the DAILY TRIBUNE in Ireland. She's got a thick Irish accent and a very wicked sense of humor, on-target and wry.
I'm reading Patricia Highsmith's STRANGERS ON A TRAIN (1950). The novel from which Hitchcock made his 1951 film of the same name. I don't have that much more to go. Highsmith was such an incredible writer (even though she was a hateful person and anti-Semitic). What is it they say? Nice guys finish last? I don't believe it.
Anyway, reading this book has made me rethink a lot of my writing and the ways I describe and portray characters--both physically and mentally. It's gross to say, but a few pages in she mentions a huge pimple in the middle of this guy's forehead. The way she describes it--and the way she describes the protagonist's reaction to it--is incredible. It sets up the antagonist in such simple terms and sets the tone for that character for the rest of the book. The novel is amazing--and it was her very first novel.
Also, there are a couple of murders in the book, and the way she writes those scenes, well, as a reader you end up *wanting* the murders to happen. I was on the edge of my seat (well, the edge of my bed), and my heart was pounding. The scene on the island at the amusement park is especially unsettling and awesome. I never saw the movie, so everything in this book is new to me.
One criticism: The way Highsmith shifts the point of view in the novel at the beginning is a bit clumsy. I forgive that, though, because then the omniscient POV really works for the rest of the book. Oh, also: Once in a while she stays too long in a character's head, which delays the action somewhat.
I have to drive to Woodland Hills in a couple of hours to pick up a check. Then I'm going to buy two new shirts so that I'll have something decent to wear to High Holydays at my temple. Rosh Hashanah starts on Friday. I have no nice clothes. It's crazy. The last time I bought new clothes was a couple of months ago: two T-shirts and a pair of men's cargo shorts from Target. I've been dressin' like a bum for way too long. I don't have a ton of money right now, so I was going to go to a thrift store. But the thought of that depressed me. I'm going to try to find something halfway decent at Old Navy.
A few days ago I ordered food online for my mother again; looks like it'll be a once-a-week adventure for me. They messed up her order again: They gave her regular-flavored Boost instead of vanilla, and they brought five six-packs instead of six. And they screwed up other stuff as well. I talked her into ordering some fruits and vegetables: one cucumber, a head of Bibb lettuce, and three nectarines. She said, "Those were the biggest nectarines I've seen in my life!" She's not doing very well these days, and she barely eats. But she's drinking that Boost like it was water. So that's something.
Yesterday she said something about dying, that she had nothing to live for. I started crying and told her that she had me to live for, that I couldn't go on if she died. She said, "Well, you'd have to go on." I agreed but then said, "Remember when your mom died? That's how I would feel." My mother has never gotten over the death of her mother, even though my grandma died in 1976. A week or so after my grandma died, my mother was lying in bed and saw her in her bedroom mirror one night. I'll always remember that.
Here's something strange and delightful: Yesterday I got a writing assignment from a horror magazine to interview a big-time horror/vampire novelist. I actually know the author and pitched the idea to the magazine. The deadline for turning it in isn't until March, but I want to get it done much sooner.
posted by Chai on Life! at 11:44 AM
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