Archive for February, 2010

Slowly Making a Dent

February 22, 2010

Right now I am sitting in a local Le Pain Quotidien with my laptop and a tart juice. I am writing. I am a writer.

I wrote a little bit about my mom as I am still coping with that experience, as I imagine I will be for years to come. So no, not my book. And I think that is okay.

So long as i continue to write *something* I am not stalling.


If I had an Editor

February 8, 2010

If I had an editor I’d write more. I’d reread what I wrote. I’d make changes before I hit send or publish or whatever button sends my writing into the world for readers.

I’d write more. I’d write regularly.

But I do not have an editor. My fan club is small. Non-existent. But I still must write.

I’ve been writing more regularly which makes me want to write more. Like the exercise conundrum. The more you work out the easier it is to motivate to work out again.

Setting the Bar

February 5, 2010

I just read an interview with Jason Reitman who wrote Up In The Air and Thank Your For Smoking. He said that when he is writing a movie he does not want to read great scripts like The Graduate or The Godfather because it sets the bar intimidatingly high.

Reading mediocre or crappy scripts reminds him that he can do just as well if not better than that of an already made movie.

I remember how my mom used to call me up and say, I just saw the stupidest sitcom. If this can get made, surely you can get a job as you are infinitely more talented than these writers.

I know I should be grateful for her undying confidence in me. I wish I had that in myself.

There’s time. I suppose.

There are moments when I read something so barely entertaining and wonder how it got published. I may think of the publicity or scandal surrounding the author, or author’s parent or spouse. It’s an excuse, a justification. No reason why I can’t succeed.

I’ll get there. Patience, my loyal reader. Patience.

The Void

February 4, 2010

I have not looked at my tutoring novel in over a year. Sure I have a great excuse: my mom got sick in India and died. But that did not last all year.

Oh, and I had a baby. But he just turned one and is beginning to walk.

All of the responsibilities I inherited from my mom are feeling under control and I have the time and I’d like to think the mind power to return to my novel. Writing will fulfill this void I’m feeling for not being creative.

The secret to writing is writing.

It’s just finding the time to do it.

I know I’m lucky. My husband never questions the amount of hours I have help and wants to see me happy. Writing makes me happy. Ergo, my husband wants me to hire the nanny so I can write. And exercise. And rent the property. And ensure the house is clean. And our finances are organized.

I just have to break the seal and go back to the novel. Here’s a novel idea: reread the skeleton of the story that I had two Thanksgivings ago.

I’m like a dieter complaining she’s fat and she can only eat fast food and has no time to exercise.

I’m over 30. I’ll never be in an article – 30 under 30 to watch. Maybe 30 over 30. or 40 under 40.