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January 8, 2010 Progress Notes:
"Stay"
Words today: 350.
Words total: 750.
Reason for stopping: Felt the pump start to go dry. And finished my tea (Tuscany rose rooibos). And it's past 11:30 and I haven't eaten dinner yet.
Darling du Jour: The back door banged in its frame like an angry drunk; the snow hissed and ground at metal and brick and bone. Cora lit a second thin-rolled smoke off the first and listened to the gas pumps rattle in the heartbroke wind.
Mean Things: Vulnerability. Portents.
Research Roundup: Photo references for your common raven; Inuit facial photo references; Dene family names.
Books in progress: Dashiell Hammett, The Dain Curse, The Glass Key, and Selected Stories.
The glamour: Mostly errands that had reached the status of necessary. Today I came home from my brief shopping trip with black leather gloves, underwear, vitamins, and duct tape. Which sounds like a much hotter night than anything I actually had planned, which was writing and making more cranberry bread.
This has broken open for me. It's not gleefully tossing words at me and romping through fields, but it's not fighting me anymore. Either the first paragraph I ended up with the other night was righter than I knew, or writing that poem just unclogged something in my head. Either way.
In the interests of ongoing hard-hitting journalism, here's tonight's loaf of robot bread, which is honey and cranberry. It was going to be honey and cranberry and cinnamon and orange zest, but I was out of oranges.
A little flatter than the last two, but I will love it just the same. In about ten minutes. Once it's cooled a bit.
"Stay"
Words today: 350.
Words total: 750.
Reason for stopping: Felt the pump start to go dry. And finished my tea (Tuscany rose rooibos). And it's past 11:30 and I haven't eaten dinner yet.
Darling du Jour: The back door banged in its frame like an angry drunk; the snow hissed and ground at metal and brick and bone. Cora lit a second thin-rolled smoke off the first and listened to the gas pumps rattle in the heartbroke wind.
Mean Things: Vulnerability. Portents.
Research Roundup: Photo references for your common raven; Inuit facial photo references; Dene family names.
Books in progress: Dashiell Hammett, The Dain Curse, The Glass Key, and Selected Stories.
The glamour: Mostly errands that had reached the status of necessary. Today I came home from my brief shopping trip with black leather gloves, underwear, vitamins, and duct tape. Which sounds like a much hotter night than anything I actually had planned, which was writing and making more cranberry bread.
This has broken open for me. It's not gleefully tossing words at me and romping through fields, but it's not fighting me anymore. Either the first paragraph I ended up with the other night was righter than I knew, or writing that poem just unclogged something in my head. Either way.
In the interests of ongoing hard-hitting journalism, here's tonight's loaf of robot bread, which is honey and cranberry. It was going to be honey and cranberry and cinnamon and orange zest, but I was out of oranges.
A little flatter than the last two, but I will love it just the same. In about ten minutes. Once it's cooled a bit.
