go back to bed, liz
“My new found spirituality made it essential to me that we not battle. So this was my position – I would neither defend myself from him, nor would I fight him. For the longest time, against he counsel of all who cared about me, I resisted even consulting a lawyer, because I considered even that to be an act of war. I wanted to be all Ghandi about this. I wanted to be all Nelson Mandela about this. Not realizing at the time that both Ghandi and Mandela were lawyers.” – Elizabeth Gilbert
The sum of Eat Pray Love is greater than its parts, but the parts are pretty good. Especially the one about the lawyers.
Two days ago I bought Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir. It was newish, ninety-nine cents and in a thrift store.
I read it tonight.
I’m giving it to my mother tomorrow.
I hope she, like me, reads it in the spirit of a certain ninth generation Balinese medicine man – below the neck.
Now, off to yoga. Not because of the book, but because cortisol is killing me.
Namaste.
“fiction” by alice munro
“The best thing in winter was driving home, after her day teaching music in the Rough River schools. It would already be dark, and on the upper streets of the town snow might be falling, while rain lashed the car on the coastal highway. Joyce drove beyond the limits of the town into the forest, and …”
- Alice Munro
DailyLit’s Big Read: Excerpted by permission of Knopf Doubleday.
writing as acting: john august
Last fall I took a writing workshop with Daniel Wallace, a man who knows a thing or two about bringing books to the big screen. The film rights to Wallace’s novel, “Big Fish”, was purchased by Columbia Pictures. Steven Spielberg sat on the project for a while but it was Tim Burton who eventually directed Ewan McGregor in the starring role.
When Wallace started applauding the talents of the screenwriter who adapted the novel, John August (Corpse Bride, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory), I felt a little smug and did a knowing nod. I’ve followed August and his blog for a few years now and lately I find myself hanging onto his every word.
Last week August blogged “in defense of fake tears”. It’s about writing as acting and about feeling your way through it all. “One basic goal of creative writing,” said August, “is to evoke a desired response.”
He said this too:
“Screenwriters are basically actors who do their work on the page rather than the stage. Both professions earn their keep by pretending things are much different than they are. Actors ignore the lights and cameras and missing walls. Writers ignore the missing everything, summoning locations and characters to enact scenes which they can later transcribe….Actors and writers are trying to create moments that feel true, despite being completely invented….Experiencing the moment is what writers do, too.” – John August
John August’s Blog
John August’s Twitter
what i’m writing…2010
When Effie saw Cosby Puckett out of the corner of her sight she saw a woman with a want. Not some innocent school girl who sat studying a bunch of books on her momma’s porch. Letting on, like she always did, that she was too shy to smile at a man and too innocent to notice one smiling at her. And Lord didn’t they! All of them. Even Effie’s husband. Especially, Effie’s husband. But Calvin was only flesh and that was the way of the world. Effie nor nobody else could help that none. Ever since Eve came along with all her nakedness some woman had been trying to temp some other woman’s man into doing something he would never have done without her. Effie’s mother had taught her this when she was no more than a girl herself, and she had been able to see such things with half an eye ever since.
guess who watched ‘whip it’
Last month I put on a pair of roller skates for the first time in twenty years. It’s this whole Yes Man thing I’m trying. I loved it. I mean, I still think skating backward is nothing short of sorcery. But I’m really geared up for my next trip to the rink. And I desperately want to drag my sister along with me. Because that would just be the best date ever.
