HOLLYWOOD GIRL ON THE FIRE ESCAPE
Gravitation volume 7 and Truman Capote have been taking up my time. I've been going the gay way. In Margaret Cho's mother's terms, I got the gay.
Several ideas in the planning stages. I hate writing about things ahead of the game, so no details will be spilled. Funny, because I read in the Plimpton book on Capote today how he was driven to share, he had to read his stuff out loud and tell people all about it. Like he was road testing it. Anecdotally, it was related that E.L. Doctorow had noted that once he told a story at a dinner party, it was no longer something he'd want to use in his work, it was lost to him. While I am not that severe, I am not necessarily the big generous sharing writer either. One must ponder what we'd be treated to if Truman Capote lived in the blog age.
But the thing is, too, I suck at planning. I am not a preparation type person. You'd just get vague ramblings. "It starts here, and it ends here, and I know I want at least one scene in the middle that goes like this." Ooooh, neat!
Which can be a bit sucky when you owe some folks some material. Gotta get a package together for someone who has been waiting for it, gotta follow up with someone else on Monday about Cut My Hair, and still haven't done anything about that Faye Wong article. May just write it and see what they think, and if they don't dig it, print it here. (Did all this info live up to my vague promises?)
By the by, the photo joke in the previous post was inspired by the evil Jen De Guzman posting a particularly hideous picture of me on the Oni Press message board. Seeing it, I realized the sad fact that all these years of trying to be Holly Golightly, I failed to realize that I had become Truman Capote. Rather than wallow, I embrace it.
Current Soundtrack: Simpsons rerun where Homer sexually harasses the babysitter
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