I finished reading Gore Vidal’s Thieves Fall Out between bursts of writing on Saturday, and then during the LSU-Arkansas game Saturday night I started reading Lisa Unger’s Crazy Love You, which is just extraordinary. I often say that the best writers and their work are inspirational to me; they give me ideas and make me want to work harder at my own writing and just be a better writer.
So far, the Unger novel is doing just that–and that’s my hallmark for someone being a truly spectacular writer. I just wish I had the time to just sit down and read it through.
That said, as Constant Reader is undoubtedly aware, I’ve been in a writing malaise lately. I don’t know why this happens, nor do I know how to stave it off, but it’s been the reality. I’ve been struggling to write, and even getting 1000 words out in one day has been absolutely like pulling teeth in the Middle Ages. And yet…yesterday I sat down and in less than two hours I wrote over 3000 words. I think–and I am deadly serious–that reading the Unger novel kicked me past it. I also managed to get a lot done over the weekend on top of the writing as well; organizing and cleaning and so forth. So I think I may be past the malaise this time. Here’s hoping.
I wasn’t crazy about the Vidal novel, to be perfectly honest. It seemed like it could be something truly special; international intrigue in 1950’s Egypt, with after effects from the war and all the intrigue from that, as well as some stuff about the antiquities black market. It was one of the many novels Vidal published under a pseudonym in the 1950’s, after publishing The City and the Pillar basically killed his career for a while. I’ve read other works by Vidal and greatly enjoyed them; I am slowly working my way through his epic Empire (one of the multiple books I am currently reading) and so I thought this noirish thriller would be better than it actually was. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sorry I read it, mind you–I just don’t think it warrants more of a discussion on here.
Although my creativity continues to rage out of control. I had some ideas on how to fix some short stories this weekend, and wish that I could work on them right now–I also got the idea for another novel. Heavy heaving sigh. It really never relents!
Okay, I am going to dive back into the spice mines. Here’s a beefcake shot of Ryan Phillippe, a bonus from 54: