Wednesday I work until 7 at the store, which means I'm closing, which means that I probably won't get out until 7:30. That means that if I went to the writer's group this week, I wouldn't get there until 8 p.m. and my sister likes to leave at 9, so I'd only be there for an hour anyway, not really enough time for all the group members to read the pages as well as get a lot of feedback and I'd hate to make my dad drive back and forth so much. So I probaby won't go this week, although if my sister still does, I may give her my pages and just receive written feedback. I don't much care for the idea of them critiquing it while I'm not there though. My brain gets wrapped up in these issues with the writing and then sometimes I feel like, 'why bother bringing pages at all? It's all crap.' I don't feel like that all the time, or even most of the time, but I'm fighting that feeling right now even as I editing my pages with the group's comments in mind, because they had a point.
Swiftly veering away from talk of the group, however, I went to the library this Saturday and borrowed a pile of books. A couple of manga because they're fun and quick to read (satisfying my desire to read and complete a book, and look at pretty pictures), a Charles de Lint book, and three Jasper Fforde books. They didn't have The Eyre Affair, but they had books two, three and four:
Lost in a Good Book
The Well of Lost Plots
Something Rotten
I'm on page 212 of the first book, which is nice and a little guilt-inducing, as I don't work until 3 today, but will probably read for most of that time instead of editing which I would be doing.
Anyway, this post is jsut to once again assert my newfound love for Fforde's writing. this book takes place in 1985, but you don't notice that so much except in reference to fashion. Any other 80s references aren't so jarring (ahh, scrunchies, I bet I still have a bunch tucked in the back of a drawer somewhere).
Also related to literature, but not Fforde: I've seen commercials for a new movie called The Last Mimsy. I am almost certain it's based off a sci fi short story called Mimsy were the Borogroves, the title of which is taken from Lewis Carroll's "The Jabberwock" poem. As Fforde makes me want to look up all sorts of obscure nursery rhymes and reread Great Expectations, so does this make me want to drag out my sci fi anthology from a "Studies in..." course and reread that short story.
Books are fun!
I'm such a dork.
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