9.5.13, 11:39 AM

Dear Der,

Thank God that’s over.

Today I will ramble. I took a day off and feel slow. I’m slowly rambling my way until I’m on a roll. That’s the ticket.

I feel guilty about taking the day off yesterday. I suppose I edited for about two hours. But I feel as though I’ve neglected Polymnia. Have I not told you? I figured out what this is all about. I have a muse! Her name is Polymnia. To quote a neat website I found on Greek mythology,

“Muse Polymnia was the protector of the divine hymns and mimic art; she invented geometry and grammar. She was depicted looking up to the Sky, holding a lyre.”

I feel guilty about taking yesterday off because Polymnia is needy and she’s punishing me for neglecting her. So it goes. Things could be worse.

I think every 5-10 years people break down. And they need to reinvent themselves to continue living.

Here’s a key to working well for me. It has to do with plans and plots and writing lengths. As you know, my motto is, “Fuck plans.” But they help immensely in getting started each morning.

Too much clarity can be too obvious.

Boring is distracting.

Not enough clarity is the most distracting thing in the world.

We see this scene happen up close. And then we see this scene happen up close. And then we see this scene, etc. The narrative is how these scenes connect and build off each other. Although this connecting may be alluded to and encouraged by the narrator’s voice, generally it occurs automatically in the background within the reader’s brain.

There should be something that shouts to be connected.

Remember, if you can, that the connecting of narrative dots happens automatically in the reader’s brain.

Also, in real life, the connecting of narrative dots happens automatically.

Who is writing real life? Mine or yours?

The easier the sentences, the more leeway the writer has with the plot.

The more convoluted the plot, the more recurring images the writer is forced to use, around every turn, reminding the reader what’s important.

The writer must know what’s important.

The only truth is that no one knows for sure what’s important.

Late-night plans are always bogus the next morning.

The brain is naturally building to something. The hard part is discovering what.

When you reread your work, ask yourself, “Do I understand what the writer wanted to convey?”

I want to write you more. I want to tell you about the story. But look how much I’ve rambled already.

So long for now!

-st