I love Dean Koontz’s writing. I do. I’m reading Velocity and while I’m in the middle and annoyed as hell with the main character, I’m still barely putting this book down. There is a rhythm and beauty to his style that pulls words off the page and into the real world. Can you tell I’m a fan?
I have to go to the lake today. Something I didn’t want to do, but my husband does. My kids do. We’ve gone somewhere every day the past two weeks and my writer’s brain is so suffocated, I woke up yesterday with a sore throat and a mushy head.
My husband doesn’t write. He doesn’t read outside of business contracts, so he has no way of understanding how desperately I require down time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not angry with the man. Not at all. He’s enjoying Memorial Day weekend and we have a lot of friends and family who want to enjoy it with us. If I were to really beg off, he’d be disappointed but he’d go on. I guess it’s the disappointing I don’t want to do. I don’t want to disappoint all the people who invite us around for parties either.
sigh. Can you tell I’m beat? (g)
Sometimes, I feel selfish when I get like this. I do want to have fun and hang with the people I care about but like I said in the post with sex in the title, that precious writing time is a fix I can’t do without. Me thinks I’m having an extra Pina Colada or two today…
I’ve been carrying around the pages to Now They Run From Valen Greer for days now. An editor has asked to see a cleaned up and lengthened copy. This could translate into a really decent sale so getting it right is important. The story is doing this constant lazy spin in my brain and I know that once I can sit down without interruption, it will settle and grow into something great. I may take a few days and work at Barnes and Noble this week. Kids are home for summer and for some reason, I have no trouble blocking people around me at the bookstore.
Do any of you ever feel selfish and torn like this?
This morning, knowing I wouldn’t get to work today, I stole some reading time while working out. (I know! It doesn’t give free reign to that creative mind when you do this, but it’s Koontz!) I picked up Velocity. Thought I’d share a bit of it. I identified with the passage instantly. Between the insight into the mind of a blocked writer and the beautiful rhythm of Koontz, you’ll see why I’m sharing.
“In the face of suffering, he had not possessed the strength of will to pursue his gift for the written word. He rejected the gift not just once but a damning number of times, for gifts conferred by the power that had conferred this one are perpetually offered and can come to nothing only if they are perpetually rejected.In his suffering, he had been humbled by the limitations of language, which he should have been. He had also been defeated by the limitations of language, which he should not have been.
He was a shallow man. ”
No, I’m not suffering like this man. Not nearly as much. But the sentiment is something I get. Something I have felt. I’ve pulled myself out of the rut I was in in the past, so now I’m just frustrated with time. I love my family and friends, love my life, but occasionally, keeping up can tire the old brain so much that it doesn’t work even when you scrounge out a few hours late at night for yourself. Did this last night and we’re talking blank here. I watched Blade Trinity instead. Blame Heather for posting that Ryan Reynolds shot. Yeah, that’s it, I’ll blame Heather… Just kidding, sweetie. (smooch)