In which I am an optimist. Again.
Jan. 14th, 2010 06:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceNone of you who know me - probably - would tag me as the optimistic type. Certainly I wouldn't do that myself. And yet, and yet: this job I do depends on a kind of base-level optimism (sooner or later, one of these books I write will be successful; until that happy day, somebody will at least want to buy this book, and this book, and this one...). Without that, I'd never finish anything.
Finishing, though - ah, there's the thing. Today, I have once again astonished myself by proving once again one of my own most basic laws, otherwise known as Brenchley's First Law of Everything: that everything takes longer.
I started today thinking "I can finish this story today." I have written - *counts* - four pages so far, that would be 1200 words or thereabouts, and no. I am so not going to finish today.
Still. I have made my argument, established my ground; and established that while it may not be true that all literature is about the same dance between identity and paranoia and betrayal, it is certainly true that all my literature is, exactly that. I choose to see this as a strength, 'k? I can haz a Theme. Excuse me, a Theem.
In other news, I came home today unexpectedly with oak-smoked granary flour in my bag. Oak-smoked! Flour! I didn't know it happened. If you live locally, you may anticipate loaves. Which would probably go well with locally-smoked fishes, come to think. Loaves and fishes, a happy combination for 2K years...
Finishing, though - ah, there's the thing. Today, I have once again astonished myself by proving once again one of my own most basic laws, otherwise known as Brenchley's First Law of Everything: that everything takes longer.
I started today thinking "I can finish this story today." I have written - *counts* - four pages so far, that would be 1200 words or thereabouts, and no. I am so not going to finish today.
Still. I have made my argument, established my ground; and established that while it may not be true that all literature is about the same dance between identity and paranoia and betrayal, it is certainly true that all my literature is, exactly that. I choose to see this as a strength, 'k? I can haz a Theme. Excuse me, a Theem.
In other news, I came home today unexpectedly with oak-smoked granary flour in my bag. Oak-smoked! Flour! I didn't know it happened. If you live locally, you may anticipate loaves. Which would probably go well with locally-smoked fishes, come to think. Loaves and fishes, a happy combination for 2K years...