FYI
I've taken down several entries. The plan is to take them, expand them, put them in some semblance of an order, and then see what I can get for them. I've also got three essays that I'm working on that I haven't posted here at all.
Hence my absence.
I'm not a disciplined writer. In fact, it was a lot easier when I didn't think of myself as a writer at all. "I'm a reader," I'd tell people. "I don't enjoy writing all that much." And that's partly true. These entries that I dash out sitting (shh) at work or in Zach's ugly but really comfy barcalounger (and P.S.: Are you kidding me with that family? And that living room? And is the daughter missing her freakin legs? And what the hell are they watching?) (And another thing: why couldn't they just have passed the pizza down to the Sassy Black Neighbor™?) are pretty easy and don't take all that much effort. But actual writing? Like, where there's supposed to be a point and some thought? How does anyone do that?
"So you wanna be the next David Sedaris?" I get that a lot when I tell people I write essays. I'm pretty sure that the David Sedaris we have now is just fine. I'd like to be the first me, I say. "Yeah. That David Sedaris is really funny." Which he is. Mostly. I've gotta say, the last two books didn't wow me as much as pretty much all of Naked and most of Barrel Fever did.
Anyway.
To wrap up this, the most boring entry of all, two things:
(1) For those who asked for books, they're shipping out this week. As I ship your book, I'll send you an email. That way you can begin waiting anxiously by the mailbox daily.
(2) I have two non-sucky entries that I'm putting the finishing touches on. Look for one, if not both, tomorrow. At least I hope they're non-sucky.
Hence my absence.
I'm not a disciplined writer. In fact, it was a lot easier when I didn't think of myself as a writer at all. "I'm a reader," I'd tell people. "I don't enjoy writing all that much." And that's partly true. These entries that I dash out sitting (shh) at work or in Zach's ugly but really comfy barcalounger (and P.S.: Are you kidding me with that family? And that living room? And is the daughter missing her freakin legs? And what the hell are they watching?) (And another thing: why couldn't they just have passed the pizza down to the Sassy Black Neighbor™?) are pretty easy and don't take all that much effort. But actual writing? Like, where there's supposed to be a point and some thought? How does anyone do that?
"So you wanna be the next David Sedaris?" I get that a lot when I tell people I write essays. I'm pretty sure that the David Sedaris we have now is just fine. I'd like to be the first me, I say. "Yeah. That David Sedaris is really funny." Which he is. Mostly. I've gotta say, the last two books didn't wow me as much as pretty much all of Naked and most of Barrel Fever did.
Anyway.
To wrap up this, the most boring entry of all, two things:
(1) For those who asked for books, they're shipping out this week. As I ship your book, I'll send you an email. That way you can begin waiting anxiously by the mailbox daily.
(2) I have two non-sucky entries that I'm putting the finishing touches on. Look for one, if not both, tomorrow. At least I hope they're non-sucky.
posted by Mike at 10:53 AM
3 Comments:
I was starting to worry about you!
I want to comment on the post about Hopkins because I love me some GMH, but I'm currently having difficulty stringing more than three words together and completing anything near a coherent thought.
I think you'll be an excellent essayist. You already are. Good luck!
Where are you thinking of shopping them?
Yay! That's my insightful comment for today. Your writing is laugh out loud funny and I've been missing you the last few days. Glad you're back.
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