As I struggle to maintain the many different writing hats I wear every day, I take comfort in Alice Feiring's (wine writer extraordinaire and self-proclaimed wine bitch) recent words on what she looks for in a wine:
"I’m looking for the Leon Trotskys, the Philip Roths, the Chaucers and the Edith Whartons of the wine world. I want my wines to tell a good story. I want them natural and most of all, like my dear friends, I want them to speak the truth even if we argue. With this messiah thing going on, I’m trying to swell the ranks of those who love the differences in each vintage, who abhor homogenization, who want wines that make them smile, think, laugh,and feel sexy. For better or worse, it seems as if I am a wine cop traversing the earth, writing and speaking my mind, drinking and recommending wines that are honest."
I, too, want my wines - and my novels and my films and my cookbooks (more on that later) - to tell a good story. As I find myself covering wine quite a bit more frequently than I used to, I've been struggling with maintaining my literary self whilst indulging in my vino self. I realize that the two are far more related than I had at first expected. Not only does Feiriing's description accurately describe what I want out of a wine, it captures (quite well, I think) what we are all looking for in a good story: the truth.
As I find myself ever closer to being fully immersed in my novel writing, I must also admit my right-now truth: when I'm in full-fledged writing mode, the idea of blogging about books and writing is terribly distracting and a bit of a chore.
I'm drawing inspiration from so many things these days...none of which are novels. I expect this is a fleeting phase and that I will return to "normal" soon. Until then, I do hope you'll stick around as I explore the many things that are feeding my writerly imagination.