I’m good, then.
Book Pile (a.k.a.-the contents of a few of my book cases)
This, my friends, was the state of my studio floor a few hours ago. It looks better now, but still has a long way to go.
*Thomas Aquinas.
You’ve probably seen text-based artwork by now. Although my favourite site, Etsy, has some lovely examples, today I am spotlighting a couple of images from NovelPoster. In addition to the artwork shown below, they also offer posters of Pride & Prejudice, the Odyssey, Alice in Wonderland, Huckleberry Finn and The Wizard of Oz. Enjoy!
The Great Gatsby by NovelPoster. $40.
The grey-ish background is actually comprised of the full text of the books.
20,000 Leagues by NovelPoster. $40.
Images courtesy of novelposter.com.
I’m lucky enough to share a birthday with one of my favourite actors (John Gilbert), one of my favourite writers (Marcel Proust) and the possessor of one of the most brilliant (recorded) minds in history (Nikola Tesla). What else do they have in common? Hmmm, let’s see.
I’ve found that frivolous observations are best made on serious days. I’m off to celebrate with the husband at the newest contemporary Indian restaurant/bar in town. Toodles.
“A house is not a home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body.”-Margaret Fuller
This one’s a bit different. It features Cornelia Otis Skinner, co-writer (along with Emily Kimbrough) of Our Hearts Were Young and Gay, as the mystery celebrity on What’s My Line? in 1959.
If you have never read the book Our Hearts Were Young and Gay (or watched the charming film adaptation), you should go rectify that now.
This. This is the reason for my fewer than normal posts. Once I have sorted through the mess, and am properly organized, things will not only be back to normal around here…they will be better. Guaranteed. Once the clutter has been vanquished, my mental processes will be freed up to focus on what I like (and do) best: write. No need to worry: until then, you can expect at least a post a day. I promise to miss you more than you miss me.
Tornado Maedez?
Seriously, this is so out of control (at least by my standards) that all of my writing projects are threatening to come to a full-on, nasty stop. Since I do this for a living, that is a pretty scary concept.
Royal Decree VI
“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.”-Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I’m thinking about cleaning out my idea bank. It is a knee-quaking concept. Ten years of scraps, plots, extracts, phrases, titles, names, research and character studies are lovingly tucked away or carelessly crammed into various crannies and boxes and drawers. They contain a lot of good ideas and solid or beautiful writing. There are threads of greatness, however frayed and dirty and dusty; there’s a lot of crap, too, or things that I have outgrown or moved past. Legal pads, notebooks, torn napkins, loose leaf paper. Written in pen, pencil, marker, lipstick. It’s all there, waiting to be addressed. Faced. Embraced or conquered. Trashed or saved. Crumpled mounds of surprise or disgust. “I’m this good?” or “What shitty shit of a writer came up with this?” It’s all conjecture, of course, as I haven’t read any of it; but I know the odds, and they are even. The summer is young, and the days are long. I can do this.
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 