What a Nightmare!

I dreamed that a number of my friends/roommates were talking about my writing while I was sitting in the room, listening uncomfortable. They were very negatively critical of things, didn’t have anything good to say at all, and didn’t seem to be aware that I was the person responsible for this terrible writing. I thought to myself “I hope they don’t find out I wrote that.” It was a very uncomfortable dream. For a writer, it’s a nightmare. A very dull, subtle nightmare.

 

In other news, I finished reading Life of Pi. I’m not going to write a review, like I planned. There’s a lot that could be said about it, but it didn’t evoke a very strong reaction, aside from the completely adorable swarm of meerkats, and as it would be entirely for fun, I only want to review books that excite me. Logically, it might be a better idea to review something about which i can think detachedly and academically, but that doesn’t sound very interesting. The thing I most want to relate to other readers was that I never felt like I connected to the book. The writing style was not complex or overdone, making it a quick read, and there were a number of lovely passages and interesting anecdotes to be taken from the book, but on the whole I was less impressed than I expected to be. (That is not to say that someone else, who is not me, would not consider this the best book they’ve ever read. It won prizes, after all. It just isn’t for me.)

In the near future I will be reading Pale Fire by Nabokov, and The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Possibly at the same time – it depends if I become very absorbed in the first one I start. Following this I plan to read Paulo Coelho’s The Witch of Portobello, although that depends on how long the other two take me – I might squeeze another book in before the Coelho. I’m not sure what good it’s doing me, really, all this reading, but as they/I say, a good writer (or a dedicated writer) should read a lot throughout his/her life. I feel very literary.

 

I’ve changed the title for an older post, and I like this title much better. Have a look —->

 

(And in other other news, I’m still unemployed. See title of post…)

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Write About Anything: “Insomnia”

In the night I lie in bed. Stars, invisible through ceilings and city air, burn through me, through the body of the earth and out the other side, until their light and life-force collides with the light from other stars. I am awake, but dreaming. My mind leads me to places fantastic and mundane, images of what will happen tomorrow and things that will never happen, specters I will never meet. Fairies chuckling and monsters shimmering. I suspect that if I saw such things in real life, I would be unable to look directly at them for fear of them disappearing, or of them being too real. And when at last I drift off, the dreams I have in sleep are fuzzy and unformed. I wake feeling unrefreshed, as if my lucid half-nightmares beckon to me, enticing me back into their world.