next book

I keep imagining:  light, lots of space on the page, clean, crystalline book, maybe slender, three novellas that all do light a different way, to make a prism.  ie everything this book does not feel like.  the two story-lines were conceived as versions of each other, dna strands, but they are not in contrast, they overlap, one is meant to teach the other, but they are alike.  Makes me want contrast, so I think: what’s a third very different sort of narrative to thread thru, the shakespearean comic strand, the thread of a different color, or what dot-like passage sequence that is already there can get carved up so it floats.  Then I think maybe the book is just a brick of a book, and then I think of this thing they used to serve at the ninth street bakery in Durham where everyone I knew worked for at least a week and when I worked there for a week I’d tell people not to order it, it was just a pasty brick of potato with some canned tomatoes poured on top.

Also:  to bury a confession here:  when I am struggling to write I follow more links from facebook, I look at the professional rags, I look at the lists of books people are admiring, and I become despondent.  I want more and more attention.  I want to win at writing and that is the thing I hate perhaps most when I see it in others.

 

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