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Monday, January 24, 2005 |
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Recently I finished reading a wonderful story by A. S. Byatt in an old New Yorker (13 October 2003). "A Stone Woman" is about a woman who, after her mother dies, gradually finds her body turning to stone--and not merely stone, but every variety of mineral, beautiful, crystalline. It's a haunting tale, the writing is first-rate (it would have to be), and I recommend you read it (http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/content/?031013fi_fiction). *** Many people seem to think I sell things on eBay, but I don't. I use Amazon.com, and sell only media--books, CDs, movies--I cull from my own bloated collections. Eight more items sold over the weekend, and so I have ordered a cord of firewood delivered the end of the week. I hope it's not too green. ***
Last night I dreamed I participated in a writer's workshop held in a large, well-lit auditorium space. Attendees were grouped by genre. The sole screenwriter, a young man (impatient, spectacled), was paired with me. This upset him, and he asked to transfer into another group with a better known teacher. But the workshop facilitator (played by a beloved English professor of mine from long ago) just smiled and told him to relax. He'd be surprised what he would learn from me, she said. I would work miracles on his writing. I sat waiting for him in my auditorium seat, holding his screenplay in my hands. I had no doubts, myself, about my ability to improve his work, and couldn't wait to start. But it surprised me a little at first to learn that I was a teacher there. |
