A Few Worries

Posted on 23 February 2004

I’m up early again. I love it but am a little worried that 3 a.m. is a mite early and I won’t make it through the day. Also that I’ll look like an old hag. Gill and I had our passport pictures taken on Saturday. I look horrible, like an old worn woman, saggy skin, lifeless hair. How did I get this old, I wonder. Where is that damn fire in me? I know that chronological age is rubbish, that beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, that true beauty is something that somehow erupts from a person’s interior, that the one who finds pleasure in life shows it. Shouldn’t that be my goal, I ask myself – to find that which pleases me, gives me pleasure? The trouble is that nothing is all pleasure or all pain, that everything is work, and one has to forecast in the beginning if the payoff is worth the process.

I’m so close to finishing the books, I can feel the relief. I did a meticulous job. Our accountant should be pleased. He should in fact be able to do our company year-end with little bother or so says I. We’ll see.

The store is also wearing me down, stealing my energy. Rob says “Leave it, get back to what you should be doing – your writing.” What an amazing individual. Gill says “Listen to your husband.” The little brat. But oh how both their comments are good for my soul. I wish I had as much faith in my writing as they did.

Shirley and Vaughan encouraged me as well at our Plum meeting on Saturday. I read them the beginning pages of my “really shitty first draft” of my novel. They want more! This morning, I received an email from Vaughan speaking of the ease of writing a practical letter, something one knows about. And questioning why writing fiction isn’t so easy. I keep thinking one has to alight on a subject that flows, that is easy to get down, that one is passionate about, that one has endless thoughts on, to write well, to sell. Oh, I don’t know. Just do the damn work I tell myself. Who was it that said – “Take care of the quantity and “God” will take care of the quality” explaining that “God” can be whoever – the “muse” for instance. In the book that Vaughan gave me at Christmas the writer speaks of a group of potters (have I told this before?) who are divided into two groups. The first are told to produce in quantity – create as many objects as they can in a set amount of time. The second group are told to produce quality – something, anything of beauty. In the end, it was the group aiming for quantity that produced the best work.

Since it is only four in the morning, I’m going up to the big house to clean up the rest of the paper work and will bundle it and courier it to our accountant, then I will shower and dress for work.


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