Don’t be scared, she says, it is me, Donatella Versace. What happened to you, I ask. I went painting, she says, by the river in the rain, I could not stand this pool any more, and the rain washed away my make-up.
So maybe I was calling to the rain, and when I sit down for my writing exercise today (rather like the daily back and leg stretches I do), I only need look out of the window to find the right words, and hopefully some of them will find their way to the finalised pages of my story.
All I know is that the new ferny floaty plants I got last week make my aquarium look like a tiny patch of fairyland, that my two tiny blue male dwarf gouramis have called ceasefire over disputed territories and seem to be getting along at last, my golden tetras have stopped dying, the last four seem to be eating well.
Better learn from others’ mistakes and move on. That way, while my own stories may not be faultless, at least they’ll be much improved. So, back with my nose to the writing grindstone, and hopefully, to some good reading later.
But I do recommend reading a dreadful book now and then, reminds you very clearly of all the things you ought not to do while writing.
Muddiness is not merely a disturber of prose, it is also a destroyer of life, or hope: death on the highway caused by a badly worded sign, heart-break among lovers caused by a misplaced phrase in a well-intentioned letter, anguish of a traveler expecting to be met at a railroad station and not being met because of a slipshod telegram.
I have often read that a dream is curtained reality. But I do not know how to take the words of wisdom I have scribbled to myself. Tonight I’m going to try and remember to describe my dreams in my book, not just pen down cryptic one-liners.
I had an excellent writing session while sitting across the room watching them play about yesterday.Today morning, I fished out two of them, lying still and white on their sides in the corner of the aquarium. No disease, no nothing. Just dead. Perhaps it was the stress of water change, wrong temperature, I’ll never know. A third seems to be gulping too much. I’m resigned–if it survives tonight, it’ll be a miracle.