writing

I didn't blog for a few days because I got sucked into a book. A long book; 927 pages. I'm a bit angry with the author right now, because he dragged me along for almost 1000 pages with a good story, but then didn't close it. It's like he sat down at his computer and started writing, and the story developed and grew, and he just kept going until one day he said, "this seems long enough," and he stopped. No wrap up, no satisfying closure. I did wonder where he was going when he started introducing new characters halfway through the book, and I got plain worried when he was still doing it 3/4 of the way through. The book is Shantaram, and it's written by a guy that escaped an Australian prison and went on the lam. After getting captured in Germany and finishing his prison sentence, he wrote this book. The book is about a guy on the lam from an Australian prison....

Anyhoo, I can complain about the lack of a Dickensian ending, and some of the more cheesy descriptions (you had to skim every time the protagonist hooked up with his love interest), but if there's anything that writing a blog everyday makes you aware of, it is the difficulty of writing. Some days when I'm writing the blog, I confess, I'm just too tired to fix an awkward paragraph or restructure the description. I love to use anyways (notice my switch to anyhoo today), I realize I use the phrase "I realized" almost constantly, loose descriptives like "lovely" crop up too often.

The second level of our house has a segment of glass floor directly beneath the skylights. John has set up his worktable below the glass and I can peek down from the loft where I'm working (the weather has cooled) and watch him scribbling frantically. We've already gone twice to the stationery store to buy him more paper. It's inspiring to see how hard he works, and that usually gets me more focused again. John, of course, feels like he's not getting enough done. The Italian lifestyle does not support his workaholic tendencies. Morning cappuccino runs and afternoon gelato forays last a bit longer than his typical 20 minute breaks. But he looks much better since we left Los Angeles. The exhaustion and stress lines have eased on his face.

I don't know where I'm going with this blog today. Just like that book, I sat down, I started writing, and now I think I'm done. I've got no witty summary statement, no I've come full-circle moral lesson, I think I'll peek over the loft edge and watch my husband for a while....