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Snow, unpacking, living in the new hood

First, before the boring bit about my day: I really like the author ellenkushner, but I like her even more after reading her rant on writers who, I guess, get their brains all twisted about what writing is really about while they're in grad school. She also links to a hysterical essay in Harpers that illustrates the point. Comments were very worth reading. I liked how the general tenor of the comments valued writing that people liked to read (ie literary is just another genre, but one more full of itself) and the recommendation that you go to school and study literature, not writing. The vision of people wanting to write because they loved to read was so much more inspiring than people who wanted to write so that they got published. Icky. (I suppose you could have a whole rant about how creative writing programs actually fuck people up instead of teaching them the mechanics of writing, but since I mostly stayed out of that jungle, I don't think I could add much to it - I still want to learn how to write, but I don't want someone trying to teach me to write in a way that will get me published in Granta - I'd much rather have Charlaine Harris or William Gibson telling me how to move a story along any old day.)

We decided that today would NOT be the "stay inside the house all day" non-event yesterday was (until 8:30 or so, anyway) and got out at around 2 to do a walk to and on Tooting Common. Snow started falling, if that's what blowing sideways and in sort of circular poofs can be called, while we were sitting at the pond. Conclusion: it was cold out, unless you were a duck.

We then went to do our shopping, which meant I got to go to a garden shop (yay! we have one nearby!) where I decided I MUST get a David Austin rose for my garden. Mmm, sweet creamy Austin roses, just like at home, only with better growing conditions. I failed to get a trowel, though, because I want the one I had at home with the soft rubber handle and not a wooden one that will make my hand hurt after just a short time. I did get potting soil, though, so the calla lillies should be taking up residence in their pot outside soon - say next weekend.

Then it was off to the various cool stores on Tooting High Street (I think), where I got the ingredients for the lamb/prune/squash tagine I'm making for dinner, as well as various other vegetables that I thought were in short supply. We got snowed on like mad for a bit before we came home, but it seems to have stopped again.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
varina8
Feb. 1st, 2009 10:59 pm (UTC)
Enjoyed the essay and the links. Yes, there can be a ton of pretension in lit fic, and don't get me started on some people's attitude about the whole concept of story.

I don't believe in genres. Good writing is good writing. I read what is good, and what pushes my buttons. I was fortunate. My advisors were pretty much the same kind of folks. I know isn't common.
thewronghands
Feb. 1st, 2009 11:15 pm (UTC)
I now feel selfish that I read because I love to read, and don't write. [grin]
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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