Writing Diary 003
July 27-Aug 2: Query letters; line dancing; not "getting" fantasy novels; the rare acceptance emails; LA's Century City mall; The Odyssey; punk vs post-punk
27 JULY
Worked on the new query letter. I hate it—my least favorite part of pitching longer works. It feels counterintuitive; some of my favorite books and collections have bad-to-OK back-cover summaries (Ulysses: guy walks around Dublin). I can’t imagine those query letters being so compelling. Those same authors were established enough to not need one, either.
Still, the drafts are coming together. Can’t forget that I need to get some of these new stories published first. Where to pitch … other than that, boring yet solid progress this morning, the kind of quiet writing that allows for those future “Ah ha!” moments.
It’s already muggy in my room by the time I stop writing for the day; summer bummer.
Final PT today. Now just need to maintain this progress for a few weeks.
Caught up with A + co. at All Seasons: LA’s least-favorite band that everyone still wants to always go to, including me. There was line dancing tonight; everyone seemed to be having so much fun; there were a lot of young people, some ironically enjoying it, others with no irony; feels like an organic-enough way to meet new people, since everyone is already so physically close to each other and moving. Our table talked for nearly an hour about all the books we’re reading, and all the books we want to read; all those “post-literate” articles are clearly not written for us. Most folks are pretty big on fantasy. I’m embarrassed by my lack of appetite for fantasy novels. I’m enjoying more manga, which requires comparable (I think) degrees of suspension of disbelief and knowledge of tropes, yet with fantasy, I get nowhere fast. I’m still surprised by how much I didn’t enjoy reading Game of Thrones, yet I love the show (I didn’t even mind its ending) and [George R.R.] Martin’s mind (e.g., Elden Ring). Maybe one day it’ll all click. Good to be among friends.
28 JULY
Too tired to think. Need sleep—seven hours of sleep vs seven good hours of sleep. I could use some self-control with the iPad at night, too. Had some interesting thoughts this morning and early afternoon, and now I’ve forgotten them. Ugh. What did I even write today? Probably an OK sentence or two that I’ll probably cut in half or delete in a few days.
29 JULY
Woke up to wonderful news: One of my new shorts was accepted into a magazine that was on my fiction hit list. Fun news; a pleasant surprise. After a while, I believe that every submission just goes into the void. Need to respond with an updated draft tomorrow morning.
Another night in which I’m too tired to think. Not sure if I had any interesting thoughts today? Writing + work + workouts + stretches. The usual.
30 JULY
Submitted my updated draft of the approved piece. Curious what their final edits will entail. Now need to pick what stories to submit to the writers group (I’m up). I’m so obsessed with having a strong intro—I have to try to treat it like a full piece, not just an overture. (I love a good prologue.) Right now these drafts feel like the sums to something better (like how novel chapters operate), but a short story collection needs to be different, I think … to have every short story stand on its own while also adding up to become something better as a whole. Is that even possible? I only really enjoy one story in [Denis Johnson’s] The Largesse of the Sea Maiden, but it’s one of my favorite stories ever (the opening title story), so I’ll gladly recommend the whole collection to anyone. Who the heck knows.
A Santa Monica office day. What a beautiful part of Los Angeles, and it has the dullest people. Countered the day’s stress with kombucha (yum) and a burrito (my weakness). Some necessary ocean breeze to balance the heat. Everything feels sticky.
Went to the Century City mall after work to pick up food for this weekend’s events. This mall has some of the ugliest pretty people I’ve ever seen; maybe it’s just a west-side thing. I can see how some of these people think they look good. I’m being judgmental. Not that I’m much of a looker; I’m such a wise guy; the moral center of LA’s Century City Mall. (Thank goodness I’m here!)
Guy next to me in line to pick up food was trying to explain who Judy Collins was to someone on the phone. It sounded like his mother. “She’s a folk singer … she’s a rock star … no, she’s like the Beatles.” The cashier seemed sympathetic, with eyes that said Yes, sir, you picked the right thing.
I wonder how many conversations I’ve had in public where other people go, “Get a load of this guy.” Probably more than I’d like to know.
Phone call with E. Ate a heavy dinner but walked a lot after.
Thinking more about The Odyssey. A flawed great achievement. I’m still thinking about the Hades scenes. I can’t wait to see it again on a big screen; I don’t think I’ll ever want to watch this on a plane screen. My friends and colleagues on the internet can’t seem to be comfortable with politely “agreeing to disagree” with Emily Wilson’s pan. (I’m now realizing that all the least-interesting “takes” I’ve heard on the movie are from the same folks who go out of their way to say that they’ve only read the Wilson translation.) All the movie theaters—including the AMC at Century City—have already moved on to push the new Spider-Man.
Relistened to some Minutemen while at the office. I used to think they were the smartest punks. Now I’m not sure if “smart” is the right term? “Clever”? I don’t think they’re dumb … goofballs who paid attention in high school history class. Punk tends to be a pretty history-conscious genre anyway; usually rallying against X or Y. My favorite punks are in on the joke (Sex Pistols), don’t try to flatten one’s humanity (The Clash, Joyce Manor, Green Day), or are so conservative that they circle back to being liberal (X). Don’t care as much for those who are just clever, or who would rather be the Beach Boys but are too insecure to embrace prettiness (Ramones). It’s funny: I love the history of punk music but only like the greatest hits (I will read any new book about Crass; I don’t need to ever listen to their records again). It’s the inverse with post-punk: I love love love the sound of pretty much all post-punk (if your roommate or little cousin plays in a shitty post-punk band, I’ll listen to them), but I think most post-punk musicians and personalities are boring.
At least it’s not Talking Heads; what [redact] music.
[Editing note: “History Lesson Part 2” came up on my iTunes mix again. Minutemen indeed rule, despite the day’s journal; just needed to clarify.]
31 JULY
No entry.
1 AUGUST
No entry.
2 AUGUST
A lovely weekend with E. I feel myself in better spirits now that my back is feeling better. Too hot to do much outside, but we stayed in the shade for some lovely walks. Snuck in some easy morning runs before it got too hot to run.
Procrastinating on writing this week’s newsletter by watching a bunch of YouTube videos on Disco Elysium … my new deep-dive.
“Let Me Die In My Footsteps” came onto my nighttime shuffle mix while writing this newsletter. Some days, I think it’s Bob Dylan’s best song, or the best version of the Bob Dylan that most people seem to love. The rare song in which he actually sounds like a folk singer who wants to be a folk singer. A Bob Dylan who sounds like he means every word … that’s a force.
“Try to make things that can become better in other people’s minds than they were in yours.” - Eno
-b
