Tuesday, March 19, 2002
Did I say that my mood had improved with this warmer weather? I spoke prematurely.
And it occurs to me, again, that I really should make myself write in this damned thing earlier in the evening. I would, no doubt, have more to say. Or at least I might have more of interest to say.
It's possible that 90% of the process of writing is distraction - that is, an author's life often seems so cluttered by all those things that are not the actual act of writing, but which only serve to distract from the act, that writing seems, at times, almost a luxury. Well, at least it often seems that way to this author. I managed today, in between a multitude of diverse and vexing distractions, to eek out about 300 words of the new Dancy story. A whole day and 300 words to show for it. I shouldn't complain. That's an average of 8 words an hour. Keep thinking thoughts like that and I'll easily drive myself more mad.
Oh. I almost forgot. There's a new interview online in the Ink 19 webzine ("The Glass Bottom Boat of the Cultural Press"). Here's a shortcut:
New Interview
I meant most of what I said, so far as I recall. The lump of rock in the photograph, there on my left, is the Pennsylvanian-aged tree stump located outside the old Birmingham Public Library, mentioned on pp. 34-35 of Threshold. We're old friends, that stump and I.
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