Hello, Failure

Of all the enemies of literature, success is the most insidious

Friday, January 02, 2004

Failure of the Day: Fucken Happiness

Really, It’s kind of ridiculous because I keep saying the same thing over and over, and if I’m going to keep having one happy day after another what’s the point of being a writer for chrissakes? (As pointed out by Harvey Danger already, who had the good sense to disband after realizing that the answer to their question: “I’m so happy…how do you write about that?” can only be answered with: “You don’t, so shut the fuck up already.”)

We saw Big Fish yesterday and I just loved it beyond all rationale. Never mind that it is fitting in with Angels in America and some other things in reinforcing my idea that making my novel more of a fantasia is the best way to do what I’m trying to do. Even beyond that, it was just so many different kinds of wonderful…it was sort of the anti-Forrest Gump, I thought. All of the overflowing love and magic but none of the conformity and doing only what you’re told.

After the movie, we had roast beef at Tommy’s Joynt because my craving for meat just goes on and on. Then we went to Green Apple and picked up the full theatrical text of Angels in America and the novel Big Fish was based on even though both had those horrible “Now A Major Motion Picture” covers. And I am beginning to feel geared up in an actual way to complete my novel properly; that is, not just do it, but do it right and do it justice. And in the end I suppose that is how you write when you’re happy…by finally feeling strong enough and safe enough to be able to write about being neither safe nor strong without getting pulled into pieces.


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