FACING THE BLANK PAGE, WEEK 4

On Sunday, June 12, with Big D still a visitor, I wrote nothing.

Monday, once more back in my “room of one’s own,” I wrote a 600-word account of our pleasant weekend, which we’d spent mostly walking—and eating. Wong Wong in Chinatown Friday afternoon, so D could have the Peking duck he fondly remembers from his years in Philly. Then after dinner that evening, we'd gone to Smokey Joe’s in West Philly for drinks. Nice place with a circular bar, a good mix of patrons, and a white-haired guy banging away at a piano, singing old show tunes and cracking bad jokes. All of which, naturally, I enjoyed. Saturday had been a trolley ride and a nostalgia walk around Lansdowne so D could show me where he used to live. After a nine-mile trek home along Baltimore Avenue and a much-needed nap, D put up the air conditioner and I made a salmon and salad supper. Afterwards, an outside table at Cocobanana for one of their cold and yummy margaritas. Sunday, we'd watched tourists run up the Philadelphia Museum of Art's famous steps for an a-la-Rocky victory salute, then strolled along the river, where men were teaching their kids to fish, then into Fairmount for pizza in an Italian restaurant called Illuminare, silken flags of every nation fluttering high overhead. Walked home, another nine-mile round trip, and flopped on the couch. Then D had to pack up and start the long trip home.

So, no additions to my word count but, as I wrote:

There’s something to be said for long-distance relationships, as I’ve always suspected. I focused on D all weekend, now it’s back to focusing on work. Two of the major parts of my life satisfied without conflicting with each other.

If Big D and I do ever get to share a home together, however, the famous “room of one’s own” is a definite requirement.

Monday’s 600 words comprised an account of my weekend plus more thoughts on The Social Animal, which I was still reading. I began Tuesday’s stint like this:

I’ve established that I can write 600 plus words first thing every morning except when visiting/being visited. The next challenge is to write words that will coalesce into something ongoing—specifically my writing project, A Girl Named Vincent. I want to start racking up the pages and chapters. It now feels like I’m sloughing that off. 


My mental and emotional focus right now is on two things: reading and thinking about Brooks’ book The Social Animal and my relationship with D. The book is raising all sorts of questions and giving me lots to think about, some of which have to do with how D and I are getting along, but also about the evasions, the slippery slopes and lurking dangers of one’s unconscious mind, along with its green valleys and pleasant streams.

Rereading this I see that books, as well as people, are distractions. Focus is difficult for me. It was hard to write about Millay when I was thinking about Brooks’ book, which means, I guess, that when writing a book I should read only what pertains to it or is too mindless to think about.

The remaining 821 words I wrote on Tuesday were about Millay. I was determined to complete a proposal to send out to agents and editors within two weeks. Wednesday’s entry contained one of my typical, setting-myself-up-for-failure plans. To wit:

In order to send out a proposal by Thursday, June 30, I need to follow these steps:
1. Finish researching/writing first sample chapter.
2. Finish researching/writing second sample chapter.
3. Revise proposal’s chapter outline.
4. Revise proposal’s cover letter.
5. Revise/compile agent/editor list.
6. Revise/send query letter.


Other things I need/want to do in the next two weeks:
1. Poetry class, Wednesday, 15
2. New York for Teresa’s reading Saturday, 18
3. Poetry class, Wednesday, 22
4. Trip to family in Connecticut, Sunday, 26 to Wednesday, 29


Also:
1. Post blog entries
2. Weekly records/ pay bills, etc.
3. Email
4. Food shopping

Say what? Luckily I came to my senses as soon as I read this over:

Who am I kidding? It’s that first chapter that needs attention right now and it probably won’t get done in one or two days.

By the end of the week, I hadn’t completed the biography’s first chapter, but I did devote all my writing time to it. Thursday I wrote 1000 words setting out the sort of young adult biography I’m trying to write (one that’s such a good read it can be sold in bookstores, will tempt kids with all the devices that fiction uses to tempt them, and yet at the same time will have the accuracy that teachers and librarians look for)—all good material for my query and/or proposal. Friday I wrote 600 words that approach the first chapter from a different angle: Millay’s mother’s POV. And Saturday I wrote a 300-word character sketch of Millay as a young girl—“a swan among ducklings.”  All grist for the mill.