mutterings....and the dreamer
October 8, 2008
So, I’ve begun the research phase on a new book. If all goes well, it’ll surface in about a year. After that, I would expect another six months of edits…before sending it anywhere. All this is subject to the idea floating. It has to float. I have to take it up to some mountain lake in the spring and chuck it out there into the magic turquoise-blue colour…see if it sinks, or if it floats gently back to where I’m standing.
A quick and heartfelt congratulations to my fellow writer Wayne Arthurson, who just landed a two-book deal with a major American publisher. Entirely deserved, Wayne. Bravo!!
Here's a sample of today's sorbet...happy thanksgiving...
the dreamer
She asks me to remember my dreams for the next little while but all I can think about is the snow. I’m thrilled about the snow. I’ve always been excited by first snow. Oh, I remember fragments of dreams – odd tidbits of useless brain fluff. I will wake up in the middle of the night and say to myself, oh, you have to remember this. But in the morning, I have only scant details. I sit with my tea and think, Jesus; I could make up better dreams than this. I could create stunning dreamscapes with archetypal midgets and slavering German Shepherds, half-smiling, large-breasted virgins in hot springs and big-horned sheep standing guard over a small girl. But this creation is not real. It lacks the random weight of truth, it's missing the electrically flitting brain synapses flying around my grey matter like a broken power line – touching places I love, and the places I fear. So, I will try again tonight to remember – to take what my subconscious offers and place it down. Turn dreams into ink and paper. But I would rather talk about the snow. First snow is coming. And that’s better than any dream.
Three sad leaves floating
in the rain barrel today –
Just like that, I know.