20120320
LIFE BEFORE MAN
Re-read The man of my dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld, then I read Life before man by Margaret Atwood. Finished it a couple of days ago. Is it possible to write as well at Atwood? How can she be so good? Sometimes I feel like I am making her words up, because it must be impossible to be that great. Anyway, reading William Styron's Sophie's choice now. 
20120315
TO HELL WITH THESE ROTTEN DOUBTS. I DEFY THEM AND SPIT ON THEM. MERDE!
Since I spent pretty much the whole day yesterday revising a short story for my course in Creative Writing, I thought this quote was appropriate:
Another thought that helps a writer along - let him write his novel "the way he'd like to see a novel written." This helps a great deal freeing you from the fetters of self-doubt and the kind of self-mistrust that leads to over-revision, too much calculation, preoccupation with "what others would think." Look at your own work and say "This is a novel after my own heart!" Because that's what it is anyway (...)
- Windblown world: the journals of Jack Kerouac 1947-1954, Jack Kerouac
Subsequently, I handed in my short story 300 words too long.
20120312
YOU WANT ME TO NAME ACTUAL REASONS?
Books read:
Tim Lott - The scent of dried roses
More than OK, less than good. Average, I guess. Liked his descriptions of his parent's childhood in pre-war (and then post-war) Britain, but when he was writing about himself, I just didn't care much for it anymore.
Joyce Carol Oates - A fair maiden
In a way, if you have read one Oates book, you've read them all. Her story is always young, innocent girl who meets older man, and either she is the one conning him or it's the other way around (the moral is always: no one is innocent). There is always sex, there is always a sense that Oates doesn't actually like girls very much, and after Blonde, there is always a sense that Oates simply wishes she could go back in time and write it again. Just like I wish I could go back in time and read it again, because it really is so very good. Anyway, having said all that: I did like it, because I knew what I was in for. I have to say though, since Oates declared herself an antifeminist, I feel like maybe our love story is over.
Now I'm re-reading Curtis Sittenfeld's The man of my dreams. I found myself not being able to decide what to read, and it has been ages since I read anything by Sittenfeld. There is a stillness to her writing that is so wonderful. Will never stop loving her, despite the fact that the covers to her books are so awful, I'm actually embarrassed to pull the book out of my bag on the underground. However, maybe she wants one to be taken by surprise by the story inside? "Don't judge a book by its cover?" How involved are authors in these decisions?
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