Ogunquit got me. There is no other way to say it. I went. I brought my laptop. I meant to post. I meant to write. I had free wifi in my waspy inn. And then, somehow, I just didn't. I didn't write a sentence, a single line. Not even a word.
But I wrote several short stories in my head.
I returned this evening and intend to commit these wonders to paper. I feel things moving, shifting, ideas forming. Do you know what that feels like after so many weeks without a drip? Without a sentence that inspires? Without a clue as to where I'm headed next? It feels divine, but I don't want to spook myself or my stories so I'll tread with tiny quiet footsteps until then.
Do know that when I get these ideas out of my head and onto the page I will return to tell you how wonderful Andrea Siegel was at her reading (because she was!) and how I should have gone to Marisha Pessl tonight (but I've only just returned!) and how it pained me to leave for quiet, cold, gloomy Ogunquit on the very night that Aimee Bender was reading. That's right. I missed Aimee Bender to meet my fiance's family. Was it worth it? You'll have to wait and see. I do at least have several stories in my head. I'll leave it at that.
I will also do a final follow-up on the heated topic of Emily Giffin. I have now read all of her books (yet am experiencing a strange hesitancy in adding them to my "read in 2006" list...am i that much of a snob? what's the problem?) and can speak more intelligently (read: can write a post without boldly stating my unfounded opinion) about her work, "chick lit" and where I ended up on the matchy matchy concept as it relates to her writing.
Ogunquit: you were cold, you were gray, you were a nice change from the 90 degree weather and smog that is LA, but you tried my patience for many days. Please oh please let me get these stories down on the page before I distract myself with all the other "work" that lies ahead.
