Damn, but I hate the whole revision process! It's like going over old ground I have already visited too much and seeing a bump or two in the roadway that I didn't notice the first time around. It's very necessary to patch those potholes, but I can't pretend there is any pleasure to be found in the process. There's no great sense of accomplishment attached to it. It's like scut work, cleaning up the kitchen after the chef is finished shaking the pots and pans.
Of course, I'm working on the novel now; the non-fiction is on the back burner for a week or two, until the time is ripe to tackle it. I dread it with a passion -- if this fiction drives me nuts to revise, the murder story will be ten times worse. I would almost as soon be water-boarded. But again, I know that it must be done so I will do it. I'll curse and growl and kick all the way, though.
I'm not in a good mood. This weather is partially to blame. Who in fuck wants to see rain day in and day out? Bleak skies, clouds. It gets old in a hurry, this crummy weather. And fall officially appeared about two hours ago, a fact that does little to quell the aggravation I feel. It's like anticipating the end of the world on this eastern edge of the alluvial plain. That is what it looks like in the deepest dark bleakness of winter.
Ah, what the hell. Two months from today I will be basking in the moderate weather of Imperial Valley, CA., unless the plane crashes en route. With my luck that might be very possible. But if so, I'll be free of worry about revising shit in any case.
If not, well, we'll see. I had planned to stay a couple weeks through Thanksgiving, but if things keep going the way they are, I might stay all winter. Eat burritos, drink beer and get myself a medical marijuana prescription. Hell yeah!
I enjoyed being a Desert Rat back when I was one. I may be past that point now.
Of course, I'm working on the novel now; the non-fiction is on the back burner for a week or two, until the time is ripe to tackle it. I dread it with a passion -- if this fiction drives me nuts to revise, the murder story will be ten times worse. I would almost as soon be water-boarded. But again, I know that it must be done so I will do it. I'll curse and growl and kick all the way, though.
I'm not in a good mood. This weather is partially to blame. Who in fuck wants to see rain day in and day out? Bleak skies, clouds. It gets old in a hurry, this crummy weather. And fall officially appeared about two hours ago, a fact that does little to quell the aggravation I feel. It's like anticipating the end of the world on this eastern edge of the alluvial plain. That is what it looks like in the deepest dark bleakness of winter.
Ah, what the hell. Two months from today I will be basking in the moderate weather of Imperial Valley, CA., unless the plane crashes en route. With my luck that might be very possible. But if so, I'll be free of worry about revising shit in any case.
If not, well, we'll see. I had planned to stay a couple weeks through Thanksgiving, but if things keep going the way they are, I might stay all winter. Eat burritos, drink beer and get myself a medical marijuana prescription. Hell yeah!
I enjoyed being a Desert Rat back when I was one. I may be past that point now.
No comments:
Post a Comment