Day 49
At noon today I went to hear important people talk about success. First there was an acquiring fiction editor for Canada's top literary press. He was a slight man who talked about how getting a glamorous job hurts your writing. I can dig on that. But he went on to say that we should get accountants and invest our money. That is a giant leap considering that we are grad students in a writing program where would we have money? (oh yes in our treasure chests in the lowest decks of our pirate ships, ha!) Pretty sure I can live without an accountant but thanks for reminding me that I am broke.
The next guy was a writer who looked like an old golden retriever except that he had silver hair and he wasn't a dog. Anyway, he told the marvelous very American tale about how everyone thought he'd never make it as a writer and now he has been one for 30 years. He told us that there were internships available that paid like 600 to 700 bucks a week and then immediately dismissed the money as, "not much". If I had that kind of money right now I would certainly need an accountant. I wouldn't mind fetching lattes and lunches, naked for that kind of money.
We all loved the golden retriever man and he opened up the floor for questions. I raised a hand and asked him about his daily writing routine, as it had been something the accountant-pusher wanted us to have. Golden retriever went on about how his usual routine is around 4 to 5 hours per day but sometimes he writes as many as 12 or 14. Great, another let down. No wonder I am not a better writer I only put in like an hour a day and that's including the creation of my daily bitchings on this damned blog. Shit, I'll never make it. Oh well, at least I won't have to find the perfect accountant.
So, after hearing the important people speak I went out and bought 20 bucks worth of coffee (I had to buy it, it had "Komodo Dragon" in the title) and popped up a message on facebook stating that I was on "lock down" to which I got three quick responses asking if I was in jail and such and then I got to it, to starting my new writing routine that is. Well, I made coffee and ate brie for quite sometime and checked my emails and read yahoo.ca news stuff about paintings and then I was ready to write. Well sort of, I couldn't think of a story so I wrote a manifesto. I took art class once it seems like all of the crazies wrote manifestos like Bauhausians and Dadaists. (I never really understood their work, but what the hell). They wrote edgy, badass declarations of their beliefs that actually meant something (at least at the time to a few delusional people who needed to be part of a freaky group to produce 'art').
My manifesto was scrawled on a page and a half of notebook paper with curly edges. I whipped it up in a few minutes and leaned back in my chair, proud, like I had done something official and badass. I even typed it up and taped it to my wall. I look at it now and it's flowery, hopeful statements look like something a psychiatrist would make a patient write down when they are being taught to believe in themselves. (At least I didn't have to pay a psychiatrist, suckers, who's crazy now?) Here a few of my phrases to inspire you with:
"I am here to re-discover who I am and what I want."
"I am here to exercise and gain patience."
"I will remember every day how lucky I am to be here."
And my favorite:
"I will have faith that everything will be at minimum, okay. And hold fast to dedication and tenacity and the idea that belief in yourself is all you need, but know that it will be difficult and take time."
What the fuck was that? That was certainly not badass. Maybe I should send it to "O" magazine. Well, at least I will be able to write self help books for a living. I don't know if you've noticed but the self help section in bookstores is always expanding (not that I would know). If you know me at all or read this drivel-filled blog you'll know how demented I can be, just think on that for a minute...are these the kinds of people who write self help books? Freaky.
What the hell is up with Drew Barrymore? Every successive movie I see with her in it she is getting skinnier. It makes me want to eat a box of another box of maple leaf cookies or throw up the last one I ate. Well, to be honest, I just saw "Music and Lyrics" tonight and I can't remember another movie besides "Never Been Kissed" that I've seen her in lately. But, while I'm on the subject, I wonder what her new movie "Grey Gardens" is gonna be like. The original film, like anyone has ever wasted damn near 4 hours of their lives watching that shit besides me and a few other lonely masochists, is like listening to three wailing babies on a cross continental flight. I wonder if Drew Barrymore even sat through the entire thing. Nah, she probably rode her Elliptical machine through 30 minutes of it and then did 4,000 crunches while sipping cucumber water and flipped to Entertainment Tonight. I know what you're thinking, 'Oh, she's just jealous she just wants to be as thin as Drew.' Kind of true but I'd really rather Drew get fat.
-Canadian Castaway
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