General

Me, Myself, And The Catskills

My father and my sister came up to the Catskills with me on Sunday. They returned home to Pennsylvania this morning. So for some weeks to come… I am home alone in the Catskills.

[Windham, New York. Photo by me, September 8, 2019.]

There’s lots to do around the house. I was busy earlier. That is why this post comes now – in the late afternoon, New York time.

I hope there will also be plenty of time to try to put the finishing touches to THAT manuscript.

I have also been paying attention for the last few weeks on my new Twitter to the #writingcommunity hashtag. I do it partly because I am intrigued by it mostly because I had previously never been convinced there is really something called a “community of writers” out there. Why? I posted this in 2018:

The term “passive-aggressive” may well have been coined by someone observing a jealous author reviewing another’s work. Having years ago encountered some of my uncle’s “fellow” writers, I never forgot what pompous and self-important individuals some were. I recall overhearing more than a few chats that went a lot like this:

Mike: “I read Lynn’s new story after she asked for input. I don’t know where to start. I’ll be nice, though. But God…”

Uncle: “She’s alright. She’s better than me in lots of ways. I can’t spell for s-it. Sylvia always tells me that.”

[Later, after Mike had gone home.]

Uncle [to me]: “Known him years. He’s an okay guy, but can be such an a-shole. She writes fine, better than him. I think he’s always just pissed off she’d never sleep with him.”

I’m also detecting a bit on #writingcommunity Twitter that all that may have changed in that latter department is that, uh, today – unlike the 1980s-90s – there is, well, Twitter:

That said, I do see value in #writingcommunity Twitter. My uncle – a HarperCollins and others published crime novelist – would have, I suspect, LOVED it. As we scroll, we are prompted to think and we may also discover we don’t do what “everyone else” does:

I haven’t used a paper notebook since college. I don’t think I have even written anything lengthy longhand since the (pre-computer) Clinton administration. My writing is all tapping on keyboards: I hoard Word documents and iPhone Notes.

Having replied to that one on Twitter itself, I noticed some others… which I thought I’d address here on the blog:

I might have ideas. But once the book is optioned, I have probably conceded that decision to those who will produce the film. If I had any say, I’d prefer a main cast few had ever heard of… because everyone deserves a big break. 🙂

I don’t use Goodreads. And I have been reading books since – alas – long before the existence of spreadsheets. That said, reading is, I believe, not just about enjoyment, totaling up how many you have read, or even about knowledge.

Books we own become treasures of a sort. They form as well a record of our lives:

[A couple of my Catskills bookshelves. Photo by me, September 9, 2019.]

I will say also if I see a book on a shelf somewhere and I can’t remember having read it, it must not have been worth reading.

I don’t kill anyone. If death comes on a page, it happens as a consequence of the story.

That moment when the manuscript is complete enough to PRINT out a paper copy. I print only that one copy. It is then I find I first truly feel, thanks to seeing it in three-dimensions, that I have actually written the novel.

Romantic historical fiction…

…and how’s it going?: I may be about… TO LOSE IT! LOL!

I don’t think as a kid I ever dreamed of being anything work-wise.

How does a writer NOT do so? I don’t feel you can dream it all up out of thin air…

[Photo by me, Catskills, New York, September 9, 2019.]

You are as a writer almost surely borrowing from personal experiences, or from those you know, even if you fail to realize it.

Previously I posted about it on here, and if I was then using them, Instagram and Twitter.

[From my desk. Catskills, Windham, NY. Where this post was just written. Photo by me, September 9, 2019.]

After those social media mentions, I may have had a drink.

Drink or not, I also sat pondering “my achievement.” Gradually I started to feel increasingly sad and empty. Finally, I ended up wondering: “Dear God, what do I write next?” 🙂

I hope you are having a good day, wherever you are. 🙂

Further thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.