Thursday, April 3, 2008

I Should Be Writing

I should be writing but instead I'm writing about the fact that I should be writing. Am I suffering from early spring fever? I do believe there's a strong indication in this direction. I'm possessed with the desire to rush out into yard and begin digging and poking around in the soil. This morning it was 25 degrees when I went out for my run but my mind refuses to release the idea of sowing seeds and the delicious anxiety of waiting for those first sprouts. I want to rush to the rabbits and gophers and greet them heatrtily

I'm so anxious to begin getting out there and transforming our grassy lawn into the lush cottage garden of my dreams, that I found myself considering changing the season in my novel. The story takes place in the early fall; it's getting cold and a rough winter is on the way. How can I possibly write of winter when spring has sprung. I can directly blame nature for this particularly knotty procrastination spell I've fallen under. It was 65 degrees a couple of days ago, the birds are chirping and spring fever has taken a firm hold.

I should be writing but spring cleaning has me moving furniture, scrubbing, polishing, and tossing out things we don't need. Instead of putting butt to chair, I'm on hands and knees scrubbing scuff marks off the wood floor. I want to paint, transform the inside of the house along with the outside. How can I possibly weave the intricate plotting of a mystery novel when there are millions of color possibilities out there waiting to be explored.

Has spring fever taken hold of you?

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

How Far Would You Go For a Book?

Sunday's New York Times Book Review had an essay entitled "It's Not You, It's Your Books" which gave me a nice chuckle. Would I, in my single days, have given the heave-ho to someone because they didn't share my taste in books?

Growing up books were my passion. I was a voracious reader in a world where reading was a chore forced on you at school. Friends would come to my house and see the huge bookshelf stuffed with everything I could get my hands on and would always ask the same question, Did you read all of those? As soon as I discovered 19th century Russian literature when I was 12, I accepted that most people I met would have no clue about what I was reading. It didn't matter to me, reading was personal.

In my 20s, I entered the world of the literate Manhattanites. Books were as far from personal as you could get. They were advertisements. At one point, anyone who was anyone was walking around carrying copies of David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. It didn't matter if you read it or finished it, you just had to know enough to join in the conversation. Memorizing quotes from book reviews in The New York Times and The NewYorker was a necessary component to any "serious" conversation (monologue to be more precise) plus the ability to toss in a well placed "derivative". What you read became part of any resume of accomplishments along with where you attended college, where you worked, in what neighborhood you resided, and your favorite restaurants.

I was a freakish anomaly in this group. No one ever seemed to be reading what I was reading. I was always behind the curve of the fad. Now that I think of it, I was deeply suspicious of people who read only what was currently being reviewed. Didn't these people ever wander around an old bookstore and just grab a book off the shelf just because of the strange title or because it's weathered pages were dog eared or because the dust was so thick on the book that it was like exploring an ancient tomb?

It wasn't what someone was reading that might have put me off but the attitude of the reader. Reading for pleasure was appreciated more than reading to impress. I had a boyfriend years ago who would rip off the covers from any book that he was reading because he hated to have people know what he was reading. This was New York city in the late 80's and early 90's and trouble could start just from a simple book title. He tore off the covers for protection and for privacy. I understood this. Reading is a personal journey not an advertisement. Scanning my extensive collection of books what you'll come away with is the fact that I'm curious and my tastes are eclectic, anything more requires you to get to know me. But then isn't that the whole point of dating?

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Tackle It Tuesday Presents- The Blanket

Tackle It Tuesday Meme

I'm that rarest of knitters- a one project knitter. I must complete a project before I can begin another (which is kind of funny since I'm not like this in any other area of my life. Right now the project, I fear will never end, is this wonderful blanket: from the .

I started the blanket in August of last year while on vacation. I had this idea of snuggling under it during the long winter months. Winter has passed and I'm still knitting. Spring is here but it's still a little chilly and I'm looking for some gratification after almost 8 months of knitting.I'm determined to finish this blanket within the week. The blanket is knit in ten panels like this:
Right now I'm on the eighth panel and barring a harsh case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome or the destructive tendencies of my toddler, I should have pictures of the finished product by next week.

Wish me luck!