Monday, 22 October 2012

The Sharpened Pen




A day of heavy editing, Brain feels like a squeeze box, a bit broken; a wheezy squeeze box. Between the hard bouts of concentration, I've been prying in old notebooks. I wrote diary entries and story ideas on the same pages, amusing and confusing. Unless I was a werewolf, and simply forgot? Some superb character assassinations, I find, including this jabby little summation of an arty London café:
'It's functional, as though tables and chairs could easily be swept away and dance could take place. Overhead pipes give an underground feel- temporary, with the danger of subterfuge and the boredom of a siege. The atmosphere is not unfriendly but the chairs are open backed, to make way for knives.'
But this strikes sharpest: a story note or a real person, I do not recall!
'Weekends she thinks are rainbows, chasing the crock inside which is a man with a small square box in his pocket, containing the magic ring which makes champagne rain and honeymoon sun or would if she were slimmer- sobbing alone in a chocolate box, every week day, work day, she's empty, until she's left, like trashed magazines, stuck with grease, crying to the moon, unable to burn old letters, sadly imploding, lump by painful lump.' 
I do remember thinking that pain was a way of waking people up, which it is, though the older wiser me knows it is only part of the arsenal.



3 comments:

  1. I do remember thinking that pain was a way of waking people up, which it is, though the older wiser me knows it is only part of the arsenal.

    So very true; and with pain so familiar to so many even it becomes a kind of numbness.

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  2. 'Unless I was a werewolf, and simply forgot?'

    Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.

    Lils, your last line fills my heart. And, fwiw, we spent the day doing the same thing. The agent I pitched to on Saturday requested the full manuscript so I am going over it, yet again, one more time before I send it. I only got through 50 pages of revisions, today. After visiting it so many times, there is still work to do ...

    (I just sighed.)

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  3. Jacqueline- very true- these days I wake people up with a cup of tea- so they think, ah, a lovely cup of tea and find their eyes strangely open.
    Suze- I actually stopped and thought- I don't remember biting any throats?- before realising I had wandered into a story line. Do you read your work aloud? I used to always read stuff silently, but since I went loud it surprises me how much more thorough the edit becomes. Sending happy thoughts to my friend Suze, the author :-)

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