As mentioned in the previous post, the die is cast: I am writing a novel. The Muse visited with a fine idea, and I have started working on it. I have already written a couple of chapters (OK, not really.) I have written, though, the opening scene and it sounds good even the 100th time I read it. So far, so good.
The other day, I got another nod from the cosmos on the writing issue. On 10/10/10, a date with a significance lost on me apart from its cool binary appearance, I went out to lunch to a Chinese restaurant. The most exciting part about eating Chinese food at that particular restaurant that shall remain unnamed, was the fortune cookie moment. The fortune cookie messages I usually get are irrelevant to my life, BUT on 10/10/10 this was what the cookie gods of fortune-telling told me:
I am writing a book, or am I writing a book?
Inspiration comes when you least expect it. Last night I was ironing my clothes, while listening to Pavement. I was thinking how my personal life is a bit of a disappointment lately and nothing seems to be working out. Failure and disappointment, words and feelings that characterize me now. Then Malkmus introduced the next song as “this is a song about moving on”, and a live version of ‘Frontwards’ came on. I really like this song. Yes, moving on, I thought to myself. But how can I escape the constant thoughts of failure? Then I started thinking about the things I like doing, and decided I should concentrate on these creative things dear to me. My mind was racing. I thought about writing and then, just like that, I had the only solid idea for a novel in ages. It’s funny, or at least has the potential to be. I stopped ironing, grabbed my notebook and started jotting down the main idea. Characters kept popping in and I outlined them. Then I kept thinking about it and, another idea, (yes, reverse these characters, brilliant!) and it could be funnier and more interesting. I was writing down as fast as I could. I felt good, I felt strong and kept smiling. Of course, there are still characters and plot lines that need to be worked out and worked on, but it’s the first time in quite some time I feel excited about writing. And that’s pretty sweet.
This is what North Cambridge looked like yesterday. Yellow. And blue.
Today it was the first day that felt like Fall is here. I got up early to get my car to the shop in Watertown and they had to work on it for a couple of hours. I went for a walk along the Charles river. It felt like and looked like Fall. It was a crisp and sunny morning. It felt good to have the sun on my face. The predominant leaf color is still green, but you can see some have turned yellow and red. It was quiet on the little pathway along the river. A couple of joggers, acorns falling, leaves rustling, geese flying in and out of the water, squirrels, chipmunks. The season of the few sunny days is upon us, so there is the inescapable feeling to soak up as much of the beautiful weather as possible, sprained ankle be damned. Fall brings darker and colder days, as well as a feeling of increased domesticity and inevitable melancholy…