Sneak preview of upcoming novel.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Torture LimboWaiting to find out if I can scoop up a house in the neighborhood I'm trolling.
Just kidding. It's not really torture. I'm still very optimistic. It's just a little hard to wait for something you want and need very badly and very soon.
Professional Rejection
At least that feeling (optimistic torture limbo) distracted me from the fact that the last book I sent out to publishers has now been rejected by three of them. It was "only" a kids' book, but still, who wants to be rejected? No one, no matter how many books he or she publishes in his or her life. I'm going to print out my ms and show it to my friend who is a good editor. (It's Brie! Hello, Brie!) And see what she says. Something might be fixable about it. I thought it was good when I was done with it, but maybe it still needs something added or subtracted. Or maybe I'm just wrong.
That happens. Sometimes I'm wrong, and sometimes I fail. That's part of what it means to be a human being. Or so they say.
Outside the Comfort Zone
Besides that, I wrote a few poems. Don't ask me why - the reason is very convoluted. See, someone invited me to read at a poetry thing, and I pointed out that I wasn't a poet. But the someone said, "Just read your prose as if it's poems." But I think that's a cheap, sort of shady thing to do, don't you? So I thought maybe I would write some poems. The first one was okay, but not as awesome as I'd imagined in my dreams. The second one I'm very pleased with. I think it's pretty awesome. Maybe I'll write more poems. Or maybe I'll just read the second poem at the poetry thing, and then fill up the rest of my minutes with prose.
I'm very good at bittersweet essays. But I think writing bittersweet essays all the time, and never challenging myself, would be a cop-out. Sometimes I think that, I mean. Sometimes I think I'm just being stupid and making life hard on myself for no reason.
A Whole Big Canvas
If/when (When. WHEN!) I get a house (my house), I feel an oncoming tsunami of creativity, with the house being my canvas.
I think of all the times in my old life that I wanted to make things, and people (that person) hated on that aspect of me and on the things it made me make. And... no more. There are no more jealous, destructive haters living in my home. I think of my last few years in apartments, feeling like there was no use making things for temporary residences, and no effing more. My house is going to be beautiful. I can make things turn beautiful. You will see. My house will be art. People will see it and say, "Now that house belongs to Gwen. I can tell. And it looks freaking awesome."
For that reason alone, I deserve to have my bid accepted. Accept my bid, people, and I will make a beautiful house.
(I've been practicing, making little beautiful things. I know I still have it in me.)
But what about the writing?
Well, god, I don't know. I mean, I know I'm going to write something new soon. I have to write a new book, right?
Or do I?
I don't know. I go to the Borders, the Barnes and the Nobles, and I see the sea of books that other people wrote. And even if every single one of them was a very good book, I wouldn't have the money or the time to read them all.
"Maybe," I think, "There are already enough books."
Seriously, maybe there are. I mean, what's the use of writing a book if you don't really have something to say? Or to evoke? Or, at least, something that will make people laugh really hard?
I don't know. I have several half-baked ideas in my head, but nothing that nags at me, you know? Yet. Nothing yet.
It's okay if I never write another book, you know. If I feel like turning into a complete suburban woman - a single mother Martha - then that's okay.
Do you see? It's okay, no matter what I do. I'm giving myself permission to do what I feel like doing. (In the hours between work, homework, housework, and bed, I mean.) And it's o-freaking-kay.
I Wish
I admire and slightly envy artists who've reached the point where they can get paid to do whatever they want. Like Wong Kar-Wai did with his movie 2046. Or like Quentin Tarantino with Kill Bill, except in that case it's more sickly sour grapes bile I feel and not really admiration at all.
But still. Y'all get what I'm saying. I think the key is to do whatever I want, even if I don't get paid for it.
But it's hard to feel that free... When there is no money, I mean. And when you're always working, homeworking, houseworking, then going to bed.
But still. It's fun to try. All you can do is try. So that's what my life will be made of. 9:10 PM #
Comments:
(P.S. I know I'm not being original and that all writers/artists/suburban homemakers go through this stage of questioning the necessity of their art. I'm not trying to act like I'm so deep or unique. I'm just letting y'all know, in case you're interested, that that's the phase I'm in right now.)# posted by
Gwen : 9:44 PM
I love these musings and the new no-hater householditude. And I'll bet your poems kick ass.
# posted by
Marigoldie : 9:48 PM
Well Gwen, as long as you're writing something that you can share with others all the while making yourself happy, wasn't that what it was all about to begin with? I think that is the one great thing about being an artist; you get pleasure out of the creation of your work that others get to enjoy as well. That to me is a beautiful thing.
Good luck with the house, I'm sure you'll get it. You deserve it for all of your hard work.
Maybe one day we will get a chance to view one of the poems you've been working on:)
# posted by
Datty : 12:32 AM
Gwen, it's not like I know you, but sometimes you say exactly what I feel. I love the thought of your house as a canvas and you get to decorate however you like - no haters.
I love the thought that no matter what you're doing (writing, painting, beading) you get to create and its all good. You give me hope.
# posted by
CJ : 7:59 AM
I know exactly what you mean about making your house beautiful. I've got a garden at my new place for the first time in forever, and although I've been a plant-killer my whole life, I'm determined that it will be BEAUTIFUL and people will visit and it will be a gorgeous sanctuary of lovliness in London.
Also, I've got two friends who are poets in Austin (although how, as a Canadian living in London, I know poets in Texas is a bit of a long story) but if you're writing more poetry, you should totally get in touch with them about the Texas poetry scene.
# posted by
Alice : 9:31 AM
Hi Gwen,
I totally relate to the desire for a house! A house that you can decorate anyway you please, and populate with all kinds of plants. A house of your very own and for the first time a place that is finally and totally your own!
I have that desire but not the money to buy it.
Hang in there I'm sure you'll get it and it'll be awesome!
And I'm sure your poem was awesome too.
Janice~
# posted by
Janice : 12:56 AM
My fingers are all crossed for you. I wish you well in the house hunt and the subsequent house beautifying.
And I have complete faith, of course, that it will rock out.
I would very much like to hear your poems someday. Which I will, even if I someday have to come to Texas. Will they devour me in Texas? Or are they all nice like you?
# posted by
queen of the harpies : 1:08 PM
MG: Thank you.
Datty: Thank you. I can't put the poem online, though. You know that. Maybe I'll make a new chapbook, though. Some day.
CJ: I'm glad. You should have hope, and do what you want. Have you read The Artist's Way? That book helped me a lot.
Alice: Awesome. The garden and your Texas hook-up, I mean. I'm in with a pretty good group now, but I'll totally email you if I suddenly become a hardcore poet.
Janice: Thank you. And, seriously, you may be able to get a house sooner than you think. If I can do it, anybody can, probably.
Queen: The only way to find out is to come down here and let me take you bargain shopping. I suspect, though, that most of us are part nice, part complete asshole. Just like me, ha.
# posted by
Gwen : 1:41 PM
I have been thinking, lately, that art saves us from bad situations we're in, whether it's the way we decorate our houses or wear clothes or write our poetry or blogs or whatever. I just think it's somehow so important to make art, to be creative instead of just a consumer. It's a little harder to be a hater that way, maybe.
# posted by
Chiara : 4:11 PM
Gwen, you're writing poems now? Right on.
We will have to have a poetry duel. Choose your form and your subject matter.
If I have to thrown down a gauntlet, by Christmas, I will.
# posted by
Mike : 11:48 AM
Chiara: I think that's a really fascinating way of putting it. In the Artist's Way, they say that God created us in his image, and he's a creator, so it is the will of God that we should create art. I'm not very religious, but that sounded like good excuse for me to blow money on craft supplies. I think you're really onto something, though, when you say that creation helps us not to hate.
Mike: I think you're maybe a level or three above me, mister. But if *you* name the form and subject matter, I'll bring it.
# posted by
Gwen : 10:35 PM
I love this whole line of thought and comments, how beautiful. I agree with the Artist Way if that is the sentiment then. wow.
Gwen, the reason that we love you/your writing is that it not only comes from the heart/head but it really comes from your gut. If you vent and express your current status of thinking right now it doesnt always have to be an original phase of life. Lordy girl you already go through enough of those, this is just one regular stepping stone onto your next adventure!!!
# posted by
pixielyn : 9:01 AM
Thank you, pixielyn. You are rocking my world with your niceness.
# posted by
Gwen : 9:01 PM
Post a Comment
