To Reach The Green Light At The End Of The Pier
FOR AS LONG AS IT TAKES: "We are saving ourselves through the words," says Eleanor, the leading lady of a novel-in-progress. This exploration into the creative process -- which includes plenty of distractions/tangents /thoughts & rants by Eleanor, her Biographer, and selected guest artists -- will continue until Eleanor is certain her story is "right." (But we dare not jump ahead of ourselves.)
There will be the occasional typo (as Eleanor points out), and much of this is intended to be "original draft" -- what comes out of our mouths (heads) first, and then set down in that order. Not all of it will be included in the novel, but all of it is happening in real time.
The Postings:
On Richard Brautigan's Birthday:
"All of us have a place in history. Mine is clouds."-- Richard Brautigan*Eleanor wants to fish for trout today, on Richard Brautigan's birthday. "And I also want to look into the clouds, and see the faces of everybody living there," she says. "I wonder when typewriters will begin falling from the sky? Everybody knows that words float."
ELEANOR says: "Please turn the page. Keep reading."
For more of Eleanor and her Biographer -- as well as the work of our many guest artists -- check out the older postings. "Everything is part of the process, and the process is the journey," Eleanor says.
4 comments:
One of the far-too-many literary highlights of living and socializing in North Beach, San Francisco, in '07 was meeting and chatting with so many people who were personally acquainted with Brautigan. I came away with a portrait of a much kinder and more sensitive man than what literary legend has implied over the years.
The fact that Brautigan had been dead in his home for over a week before his body was discovered does not, as the biographers keep shoveling, say something about how isolated he was fom friends. He had, I learned, developed a habit of holing himself up while working.
"We all thought he was locked up and writing another book," a friend of his told me. "He would often disappear for months at a stretch and no one thought anything of it."
I might write something at Carver's Dog about this.
Though all it adds up to is 3 times sadder, it was 3 weeks before anyone discovered RB's body.
He himself embodied the sad and beautiful, whimsy and the deadly serious. He is missed by so very many to this day.
Respectfully,
Don
Thanks, Rodger and Don, for your comments.
Don -- you have a wonderful site. For anyone who wants more on Richard Brautigan, check out Issa's Untidy Hut as a good starting point.
I'm sure that Rodger could also add to this.
To the words -- Geoff
Don mentions "Rommel Drives On Into Egypt" at his site. Damn. I nearly forgot about that poetry collection. I found a copy at the North Beach Library and carried it around in my satchel for two weeks, reading bits and pieces between beers at Vesuvio. He was an interesting minimalist poet, a very hit and miss writer in that form.
Post a Comment