I: 4/21/03

Work Diary, 4/21/03

Good god, another hotel. This time I have a view of the parking lot and
a cute clapboard house across the street (Note to self: Curtain is
sheer; nudity might get noticed). What a strange trip. I hit no traffic
coming down; my room was ready as soon as I walked in; I parked next to
the front door; the elevator was running. When I came into this room,
the clock said 4:16 - two perfect squares for those of you who are
mathematically inclined.

My job this weekend is to continue editing the chapters of my novel. I
just finished organizing the "mother chapters". Next come the "aunt
chapters" and the "narrator chapters", all of which seem to be at odds
with one another but maybe that's what people want. As a sideline, I
have a transcript to critique for a new member of my writing group. I
gave it a cursory reading last night and it was good, a futuristic look
at the world that managed to remain human. Writing group was also last
night; it was one of those nice evenings where everything falls
together. We had a sex and humor theme going throughout the evening -
unplanned - everyone guffawing and giggling and surprised at just how
well the word "dildo" works in certain types of stories.

In June, the instructor of my writing group is giving a reading of her
new novel. She's asked that some of us read our own work, my first time
in public. I'm nervous, but not because of my writing (well, maybe).
I'm just crappy at reading out loud. I lapse into a high-pitched
monotone, speeding through the words like I'm racing for the finish
line. It seems to me that writing isn't meant to be read out loud,
anyway. Sure, there's that communal solitude at a public reading, but I
prefer the non-communist approach. I like my fiction solo, a fatal
attraction between reader and word resulting in a faintly mastubatory
relief at the end of each chapter. I may not stroke my book's cover but
surely it deserves no less.

So, another hotel. More bad TV. Perhaps room service consisting of a
bored employee, stained plate covers, and chicken wings. I have a new
mantra: Just do it. Yes, I know, it's been taken. But it does apply,
right? If it doesn't, I might as well be at home, watching the same bad
TV while the dog passes gas under the blankets. Which would you
choose?