Samain \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Moon of the Winter Solstice<\/p>\n
Today, the novel. \u00a0Rereading old work, this material is from the beginning of this year, has an odd flavor. \u00a0Some of it I read and, boy, what was I thinking? \u00a0The pencil scratches out words, lines, paragraphs. \u00a0Sections get moved, some eliminated. \u00a0Other parts. \u00a0Hmmm. \u00a0The bones of something is here, not all bad.<\/p>\n
This world, Tailte and the mythos of the Great Goddess, has an expansiveness to it, a rich and textured feeling, as if I might write in it for a long time. \u00a0That aspect of this work feels very good.<\/p>\n
Rereading though goes slowly and until I’m done I won’t start writing new material. \u00a0I have about 2\/3’s of the novel written, maybe a little less. \u00a0If all goes well, I might have a manuscript finished by May. \u00a0Then, I’ll set it aside for another six months and return to either Superior Wolf or Jennie’s Dead, two novels I’ve had underway for several years.<\/p>\n
The other feeling, maybe inescapable unless you write like Maughm, Kafka, Tolstoy, is the considerable insignificance of the work. \u00a0It feels small, as if the world it is in might matter too little, be of too small a consequence.<\/p>\n
No writer can make that judgment for their own work, no artist can, but the thought of laboring for years and cranking out filler, well, that can be deadly. \u00a0At times this notion, the matter of mattering, has stopped me. \u00a0Knocked me out cold. \u00a0Sent me to reading or politics or volunteering at the art museum or growing a vegetable garden.<\/p>\n
Not this time. \u00a0In the end this is my work. \u00a0For whatever value it has beyond me, it is my work and it is the best that I can do. \u00a0That’s enough. \u00a0It has to be.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Samain \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Moon of the Winter Solstice Today, the novel. \u00a0Rereading old work, this material is from the beginning of this year, has an odd flavor. \u00a0Some of it I read and, boy, what was I thinking? \u00a0The pencil scratches … Continue reading Rereading<\/span>