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Saturday, 30 July 2011
Monday, 25 July 2011
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
A new day
It seems to be one of those days where I'm desperately grasping at words but they are not sticking and I'm not going to even ask where the summer has gone because when I really think about it, it's always been like this; a severe flash of heat and no rain to the point of drought, then the floods and grey. With writing deadlines impending, I steadied my mind by reading a few entries in Virginia Woolf's diary, I've taken my time reading them so that I could truly absorb them, no doubt I shall return to them over and over once finished. And now I believe I'm ready to pick up my pen and plummet once more into Between The Waves I'm so near the end, and I will then have to find the strength to edit and then the courage to seek an agent once more. And so, on this breezy day,on which the sun has managed to shine on my geraniums in the window, I will share this extract with you.
VOLUME FOUR 1931-1935[Thursday 19th July] 1934
Is my brain dwindling, I ask myself after 1 ½ hours writing at the Fact & Fiction- that is, i am revising the first chapter of that old burgbear of mine on fiction. And I get so knotted & jaded; never mind. I shall lie flat a little in brain, for a few days: until I feel the well full. That is, I am priming myself for a final go at Here &Now. It is still so hot- so hot- my skylight painted smooth blue every morning- when we hear rain as we did last night we rush to the window. A puddle the rarest of sights. Smell of wet earth delicious. We drive to Cambridge to dine with Rothschilds tonight- home by starlight. Mary rings up to ask us to dine to meet Tom. How heavenly to drive by night she says. Cant because Jack wont. I did not go to Edith Jones cocktail or her party yesterday, & so felt assuaged; walked in Oxford St; bought a 15/- servants dress. Sun came out, though very soon: bought a melon therfore. How pleasant to have coins in one's purse. On the whole a well managed summer, if my head were more vigorous. Oh these long books. what a tremendous effort they are- to whole [hold] the entire span on my shoulders. And as Bogy Harris said, you must go on now till you die. Which is true.
No letters; no fame; rather a relief, to sit in the shade & spin. Julian trying for a Chinese professorship; will hear today. He dined & brought a skatelike looking woman- [name omitted]- a mouth cut in a wide fishlike face- entirely obtuse: sucking greedy. Why does J. like such inanities?Tuesday, 12 July 2011
To Anonymous
To the lovely person who posted anonymously this morning, (I couldn't post a comment on the linkk for some reason) I just wanted to say thank you, it was terribly kind of you. I thank you for reminding me of inspiration and passion as they can be lost and it only takes a nudge to fall into step and return to the path, something I need in a busy stressful moment like now.May we, in our darkest moments find the stength to do what we desire... always.
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