the sun-starved dogs have taken to crowding into the one spot on the carpet where the sunlights hits. i've thrown open the blinds for them, but it's still a small spot. it's not that they are cold, they just want to sit in the sun. it's pretty pathetic.
and speaking of pathetic, i can't believe i'm having another one of "those" weeks: contract due monday, assignments in both classes, and twenty other "need-to-do" bits on top of all that. and all after a lovely four-day weekend of mindless doodling and Exorcist-watching.
doctorow and i aren't getting along. i haven't picked up The March in nearly a week now. i'm actually going to have to recheck it. it sincerely puzzles me that i can't seem to finish his books. he's a good writer, tells stories you'd think i would want to read, but there's just something ~ i don't know ~ maybe too author-intrusive about his work? like i'm so aware of the writer that i never really get involved with the characters even though they seem interesting and i feel i ought to like them. bad as collingwood was, there was something compelling about how horrific it was: you wanted to know what foul thing was going to come out of the next guy's mouth. doctorow is flat to me. there's two characters that seem interesting (it says something that i can't even remember their names), and then the rest of them are sort of backdrop ~ the mulatto girl named pearl, i remember her. the rest of it not so much. that's pretty bad.
i have a low tolerance for books that don't grab me. i may force myself to read three chapters to give something a chance to catch my interest, but usually if i don't finish a book in three or four sittings (sometimes one or two), it doesn't bode well. then again, there are any number of books it took me forever to read. both Catch-22 and Andersonville i gave up on the first go-round. Catch-22 i gave up on twice before finally being in the right groove to read it. so there's hope. meanwhile, i gotta get back to reading because i'm losing my lead on the
50bookchallenge.
tiellan posted a call for submissions for the Tamarack Award ($10,000 for a short story up to 4,000 words, no entry fee). i think i'm going to try to cobble a short tory out of WFA and submit it ~ just for fun. i haven't got a snowball's chance in hell of winning, but it would be good practice for me (writing a short story), and also, it's been so long since i've published i really ought to put myself back out in circulation. a sure-fire rejection is a good way to get started submitting again.
note to all you writers out there: i sold my first story to the Indiana Review after it was rejected by at least five other non-paying literary magazines. it won the National Arts & Literature award for my region (with a hefty cash prize and an all-expense-paid trip to ann arbor that i oughta tell you about some time ~ and why i haven't competed in years as a direct result). i look back on that story now and it's not really a very good story ~ but someone clearly liked it and i did well by it. so the perseverance paid off.
and now i'm rambling. back to Gatchama i go.
: D
and speaking of pathetic, i can't believe i'm having another one of "those" weeks: contract due monday, assignments in both classes, and twenty other "need-to-do" bits on top of all that. and all after a lovely four-day weekend of mindless doodling and Exorcist-watching.
doctorow and i aren't getting along. i haven't picked up The March in nearly a week now. i'm actually going to have to recheck it. it sincerely puzzles me that i can't seem to finish his books. he's a good writer, tells stories you'd think i would want to read, but there's just something ~ i don't know ~ maybe too author-intrusive about his work? like i'm so aware of the writer that i never really get involved with the characters even though they seem interesting and i feel i ought to like them. bad as collingwood was, there was something compelling about how horrific it was: you wanted to know what foul thing was going to come out of the next guy's mouth. doctorow is flat to me. there's two characters that seem interesting (it says something that i can't even remember their names), and then the rest of them are sort of backdrop ~ the mulatto girl named pearl, i remember her. the rest of it not so much. that's pretty bad.
i have a low tolerance for books that don't grab me. i may force myself to read three chapters to give something a chance to catch my interest, but usually if i don't finish a book in three or four sittings (sometimes one or two), it doesn't bode well. then again, there are any number of books it took me forever to read. both Catch-22 and Andersonville i gave up on the first go-round. Catch-22 i gave up on twice before finally being in the right groove to read it. so there's hope. meanwhile, i gotta get back to reading because i'm losing my lead on the
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note to all you writers out there: i sold my first story to the Indiana Review after it was rejected by at least five other non-paying literary magazines. it won the National Arts & Literature award for my region (with a hefty cash prize and an all-expense-paid trip to ann arbor that i oughta tell you about some time ~ and why i haven't competed in years as a direct result). i look back on that story now and it's not really a very good story ~ but someone clearly liked it and i did well by it. so the perseverance paid off.
and now i'm rambling. back to Gatchama i go.
: D
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