Monday, June 16, 2008

Provincetown 16

I stayed up until five in the morning working on the novel and woke up at nine thirty in the morning. I just couldn't get back to sleep at all, so I got up, showered, finished a letter to Allen, and headed out to do some errands.

I stopped by the Summer Program Office to give the director a few copies of my novel to sell. I gave her a signed copy and she took on as if I'd given her a hundred dollars. She's so enthusiastic. You know people must be giving her books all the time. I bought two books: Maxine Kumin's Selected Poems and a book by Pam Houston. Both authors are doing readings this week. The place where the readings happen is just across a small courtyard from my aparment. I can look out my window and see everything.

I found out yesterday that my workshop was canceled, and I was actually glad, practically ecstatic, because the writing is going so well, and I was afraid the workshop would be a distraction.

I'm going now to mail letters.

My goal is to finish 20 new pages by the end of the week.

1 comment:

Anne said...

I just stumbled across your blog and have enjoyed reading your entries about Provincetown. I've taken several summer workshops there (none this year, sadly) and it is pretty much my favorite place on the planet.

I love "she took on as if I'd given her a hundred dollars" -- I can picture her doing that so clearly! :) Enjoy your gift of time this summer, and I look forward to reading more about it.



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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken


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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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