NaNoWriMo update: not so much with the Wri, lately.

My wordcount has been stuck at a paltry three-thousand-and-some for days now.  I’m falling way behind.  This is partly because I’ve been reading instead of writing these past few days.

Book club is doing The Poisonwood Bible this month, which is one of my all time favorite books ever. So this makes me very happy to be able to share it with others.  But it’s been a few years since I’ve actually read it, and I find my memory a little sketchy as to some of the details, so I re-read is definately necessary.  I meant to finish it before November so I wouldn’t have to worry about it interfering with my writing, but I couldn’t find my copy, so I kept putting it off until this weekend when I finally found it in a box stored in our extra bedroom.

OMG, I had forgotten how long this book is.  That is probably in part because the first time I read it was long before I had kids, and I was able to read it in a day.  That’s so not happening this time!

But I love it.  I’ve read it so many times, and each time I find some little fantastic detail that I’d missed in all the previous readings.  There is just so much that is good in that book.

And, sadly, it makes me want to give up all pretense of possibly being a real writer someday,  as there is no way anything so marvelous could ever spring forth from my mind and my fingers.
I think wana-be-writers should temper their reading of good work with craptacular works of fiction that have done well.  The good to teach you about writing, the bad to make you think, “hey, even I could do better than that.”

Misunderstanding is my cornerstone. It’s everyone’s, come to think of it. Illusions mistaken for truth are the pavement under our feet. They are what we call civilization.

Barbara Kingsolver The Poisonwood Bible, Page 532

I should be cleaning something - my house is a wreck as usual - or writing something or perhaps finally uploading the entry I wrote ages ago about the hospital tour. I did try to, by the way, but something happened to the disk between the laptop and here, and this computer now refuses to read it. I just haven’t gotten around to finding a new disk.

I’m too hot and tired to do anything that requires more than passive absorption on my part, however. I can read or watch TV or listen to music, but that’s really about it. Being creative just seems like far too much effort.

I’ve been rereading The Poisonwood Bible tonight having earlier fished it out of a yet to be unpacked box while looking for a pair of shoes I hadn’t worn since last summer. Yes, packing was rather random in our last move.

I’ve read it at least a dozen times, but it’s one of those wonderful books that every time I open it, I find something new. Tonight I opened it to a random spot about halfway through and read to the end. Now I plan to start at the beginning and read to where I started last. I do that a lot with this book. I do that a lot with most books that I love.

I haven’t actually read this book backwards yet, but it would be an apropriate book to read that way. If you’d read it, you’d understand that.

The library cost me more than I was expecting. Twelve dollars. The fines for the books I had yet to return hadn’t been counted yet.

I got:

• The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I can’t remember why I first decided I wanted to read this book, but it cost me two dollars. I reserved it forever ago, but neglected to pick it up within the alloted time, and so got assessd a two dollar fee. It was no longer reserved, but still on the shelf, so I got it. The librarian who checked books out for me said that he’d read it and it was very good.
• Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flag. I’ve been wanting to read this for a long time; I loved both Welcome to the World Baby Girl and Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man. I’ve had it on reserve forever, but it just came in. Well, it “just came in” two weeks ago. If I hadn’t picked it up by tomorrow, they would have charged me another two dollar fee.
• Oranges are not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson. Somone recomended this to me in one forum or another. I’ll let you know how it is.
• Summer Sisters by Judy Blume. Love this book. Love it. It’s one of the few books that Judy Blume has written for adults, and I’ve read it many, many times. I actually own this book, but it’s one I neglected to bring up from Portland. Funny how I managed to bring up a lot of books that I really don’t care if I never read again, yet I forgot most of my favorites. Twice now, since I forgot to get them when I was down visiting in the Spring.

Just four books. There were several more that I wanted, but I am trying not to overindulge. I want to make sure I spend some time writing and learning more perl, and if I had too many books I would just read and read and never get anything done.

I’m not letting myself touch them tonight. At least not for a while. I need to finish editing a friend’s story and write on my own. Once I’m done editing and have written at least two-thousand words of fiction then maybe, just maybe, I’ll allow myself to crack open a book.

Oh. They’re tempting me. Evil things! Leave me alone; I have work to do.

They’re calling out to me to open them… to just read a few pages.. they claim that just a taste won’t do any harm. I’m on to their tricks. I will prevail!