Thursday, February 23, 2006


"The places I've surfed sometimes seem like so many beads on a memory string, a rosary of hundreds of small stereopticons, wherein multicolored waves break in amber."
(William Finnegan, "Playing Doc's Games" in the New Yorker)

That sentence is so beautiful, I swear it almost made me cry. (The day I can describe something like that, I really will cry!) Everytime I think I'm getting closer to where I want to be as a writer, I read something like this and think, man, I have a long way to go. I feel awed and humbled.

I know, it seems a little melodramatic. But it isn't when all you want to do is write -- and write so breathtakingly that people are stopped in their tracks by something you created, even if it's just one sentence. Or one turn of phrase. And then maybe they'll take that sentence and blog about it. Then, you've arrived.


At 1:40 AM, Anonymous Nanz said...

Much as i solely exist to make snarky comments, I know where you're coming from on this...

At 11:46 PM, Blogger rhea said...

i admire and appeciate your self-restraint, nans! :)


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