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writing & processing, novel

About eight years ago, I began a new manuscript. It was called “Mina” and was about a 40ish woman on the brink of making choices in her life after she finds herself in a rut. It was about her thoughts on marriage, on soup and wheatgrass shots, and anger. It went on and on, and after a hundred and fifty pages, I abandoned it, saving only four pages concerning a pregnant widow. Novels about women’s mid-life crisis and about pregnant widows were published. The celebrated Indian authors, who seemed to be nobel laureate-type scientists with an itch to write came out with their even more celebrated books. I told myself I did not mind, I was only a bit jealous, and anyway, I had yoga classes to attend, and weights to lift. My book would end on belly laughs, be a small, light crepe, a creme wafer.

It’s nearly done, maybe is done, and now I wait for feedback.

2 Comments
  1. yan jing's family #

    you gotta stay up on your mountain.

    Like

    May 18, 2010
    • Like staying up on a bike?
      Today it rained & hailed, & with the sun peeking just a bit through it, I left the screen door open, & for a moment, it smelled like the beach was near.

      oh! maybe it’s the new potting soil with crabmeal & fish emulsion.

      Like

      May 18, 2010

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