"In the hour of adversity, be not without hope. For crystal rain falls from black clouds." Persian Poem
Despite the fact that I have been alarmingly social recently, I can not help but feel a bit disconnected from the world. I am adrift in the pages of my novel, while the place where I once worked churns on without me. I boxed up my things last week and most of those boxes still sit in the trunk of my car, as if, by lacking a proper place in my house, they are forced to ride around aimlessly on errands.
Luckily, I have not been without company. Best friends David and Bonnie have been close at hand this weekend. It's an important thing for a writer to have close ties because one can get so lost in the words. Especially me, especially when editing. I'm supposed to be smoothing things out, but rather than carrying a sliver of sandpaper, I seem to be carrying a hammer and a power saw with jagged teeth. I have ripped out a character from my novel, and I can almost see the slashmarks on the pages. This description reminds me very much of Jasper Fforde's novel, The Erye Affair. It was a surreal reading experience, which I recommend. He is an extremely clever author, though I can not for the life of me understand why he insists on adding a superfluous 'F' and 'e' onto his name when the entire car-buying world knows that the correct spelling is Ford.
I had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Fforde during a luncheon. He was handsome and witty in that charming British way. I would likely have married him had it not been for the small problem of his traveling companion, she claimed to be his wife.
Labels: Slice of Writing Life