So, it's September. Sorry for the silence all of August. August took some unexpected turns and vanished.
I'm re-reading "Disgrace" by Coetzee for school. It's not fun, but it's forcing me to read it with a more analytical eye, which is great.
Have been writing lots. Reading lots of Lorrie Moore short stories. Am going to go see her read at this year's International Festival of Authors at Harbourfront.
Gearing up for some self-reflection leading up to Yom Kippur, so I might not post again till after September 27th.
See you soon...
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Zoetrope Contest
The 13th Annual Zoetrope All-Story Short Fiction Contest is accepting entries. Deadline is October 1st. Entries from outside U.S. accepted. All the details are at that link.
Sorry for the patchy blogging. Life's been fascinating lately and in a good way. And when life gets like that, sometimes you don't want to stop and blog it, you just want to live it.
*
If you're in Toronto, I'll be at the Old Mill Inn this evening to catch a performance of Much Ado About Nothing in the Wedding Garden.
Sorry for the patchy blogging. Life's been fascinating lately and in a good way. And when life gets like that, sometimes you don't want to stop and blog it, you just want to live it.
*
If you're in Toronto, I'll be at the Old Mill Inn this evening to catch a performance of Much Ado About Nothing in the Wedding Garden.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Curated Shelving
Wait, wait, that post below, with the shelf?
The designers are Mike and Maaike, and you can learn more about this shelf at their site. It is first in a series of "curated shelves". This one is called "Religion" and is created to hold "the world's most influential religious texts together".
I'm more in love with the design than the idea of someone else curating my books. (I'm picky.)
The idea of my books sitting snugly in their own little cubbies, or aligned from the tops rather than the bottom kinda thrills me.
The designers are Mike and Maaike, and you can learn more about this shelf at their site. It is first in a series of "curated shelves". This one is called "Religion" and is created to hold "the world's most influential religious texts together".
I'm more in love with the design than the idea of someone else curating my books. (I'm picky.)
The idea of my books sitting snugly in their own little cubbies, or aligned from the tops rather than the bottom kinda thrills me.
Come upstairs/I'll force-feed you/book covers
Book Covers
Can I ever get enough gorgeous, startling book cover design? No. Delicious book covers with credits and notes are at this blog, Covers. It is updated by a design firm called Fwis, who design, you guessed it, book covers. Yum! And here's another book cover blog, because you've been good, Book Covers Anonymous. Some of the posts highlight different covers used for US/UK editions. I could look at these all day.
Want to design your own now? You can buy these naked Penguins and go wild. I bought The Waves and I intend to harass an artist friend until he designs the cover.
And from the Covers blog, this shelf, this shelf,
I WANT IT. I want many many like it, all custom-carved to fit my books. Giant puzzles on my walls. Imagine?
*
Force-feeding
I have been trying to use the word gavage in my story. It means force-feed. It can be used regarding the feeding of infants who cannot suck, or people who need super-alimentation. It can also refer to force-feeding as torture, and the way geese are fed to create foie gras.
I can't use it in my story. It's the right image, but the wrong word. I've checked all my dictionaries (I have a collection) and thesauruses, and most do not have the word. My French and my medical dictionaries have it though, as it is a French word and medical term.
Sometimes english feels so limiting.
*
Come Upstairs
Now I am trying to decide if my character would say:
Come upstairs, I have to show you the shoes I bought.
or
Come upstairs, you need to see the shoes I bought.
She's a small-n narcissist, a sophisticated drama queen, generous and selfish at once. I can't decide if she'd stick with the pronoun "I" - "I" have to show you, or whether she'd prefer to tell her friend what to do - "you need to see". The "come upstairs" is already imperative. Maybe I should follow Gordon Lish's idea of letting the beginning of a sentence dictate where it should end.
Come upstairs and see the shoes I bought.
Come upstairs. Come see the shoes I bought.
I'll work on it.
Can I ever get enough gorgeous, startling book cover design? No. Delicious book covers with credits and notes are at this blog, Covers. It is updated by a design firm called Fwis, who design, you guessed it, book covers. Yum! And here's another book cover blog, because you've been good, Book Covers Anonymous. Some of the posts highlight different covers used for US/UK editions. I could look at these all day.
Want to design your own now? You can buy these naked Penguins and go wild. I bought The Waves and I intend to harass an artist friend until he designs the cover.
And from the Covers blog, this shelf, this shelf,
I WANT IT. I want many many like it, all custom-carved to fit my books. Giant puzzles on my walls. Imagine?
*
Force-feeding
I have been trying to use the word gavage in my story. It means force-feed. It can be used regarding the feeding of infants who cannot suck, or people who need super-alimentation. It can also refer to force-feeding as torture, and the way geese are fed to create foie gras.
I can't use it in my story. It's the right image, but the wrong word. I've checked all my dictionaries (I have a collection) and thesauruses, and most do not have the word. My French and my medical dictionaries have it though, as it is a French word and medical term.
Sometimes english feels so limiting.
*
Come Upstairs
Now I am trying to decide if my character would say:
Come upstairs, I have to show you the shoes I bought.
or
Come upstairs, you need to see the shoes I bought.
She's a small-n narcissist, a sophisticated drama queen, generous and selfish at once. I can't decide if she'd stick with the pronoun "I" - "I" have to show you, or whether she'd prefer to tell her friend what to do - "you need to see". The "come upstairs" is already imperative. Maybe I should follow Gordon Lish's idea of letting the beginning of a sentence dictate where it should end.
Come upstairs and see the shoes I bought.
Come upstairs. Come see the shoes I bought.
I'll work on it.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Civil Elegies
On Friday, July 10th, I went to hear Canadian poet Dennis Lee read his 1972 work, Civil Elegies, as part of The Scream Literary Festival.
At the event, If Hope Disorders Words, Lee read Civil Elegies in its entirety (and it was the first time he had publicly done so - or maybe the first time since its original publication - I'm not sure).
The poet Jacob McArthur Mooney did a wonderful introduction of Lee, and has also written an essay for Open Book about Civil Elegies where he calls it "the saddest book in the history of Canadian letters". (You can also read an excerpt of the essay on poet Paul Vermeersch's blog.)
Before the event I read some of Lee's work - mostly from Un and YesNo, and it was powerfully musical and energetic. There was an intensity - even a violence to some of the lines, yet Lee read them with a much slower, quieter voice (than I had) which gave them a more lyrical quality and tone. It was lovely. Check his books out if you like your language twisted and wrenched, and moving.
As a bonus, here are some poems by Paul Vermeersch and some poems by McArthur Mooney.
At the event, If Hope Disorders Words, Lee read Civil Elegies in its entirety (and it was the first time he had publicly done so - or maybe the first time since its original publication - I'm not sure).
The poet Jacob McArthur Mooney did a wonderful introduction of Lee, and has also written an essay for Open Book about Civil Elegies where he calls it "the saddest book in the history of Canadian letters". (You can also read an excerpt of the essay on poet Paul Vermeersch's blog.)
Before the event I read some of Lee's work - mostly from Un and YesNo, and it was powerfully musical and energetic. There was an intensity - even a violence to some of the lines, yet Lee read them with a much slower, quieter voice (than I had) which gave them a more lyrical quality and tone. It was lovely. Check his books out if you like your language twisted and wrenched, and moving.
As a bonus, here are some poems by Paul Vermeersch and some poems by McArthur Mooney.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Control A Cat
Don't ask how I find these things at 3:00am. That is the magic of the interwebz + the fascinating fluctuation of serotonin!
Et voila, Control-A-Cat. A remote control for your cat.
Feel like the boss of your own home again!
(Actually, I wrap presents on my floor. I leave scissors on my floor. Kitty comes over and lies down on scissors and looks up at me pretending she has opposable thumbs.)
Et voila, Control-A-Cat. A remote control for your cat.
Feel like the boss of your own home again!
Kitty will cut a bitch.
(Actually, I wrap presents on my floor. I leave scissors on my floor. Kitty comes over and lies down on scissors and looks up at me pretending she has opposable thumbs.)
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Writing for Mentor
I went over my first draft of the newest story today. We'll call it Garbage Strike.
It was definitely in need of tailoring. Some parts need taking in and some need letting out. My focus was intensified however, by knowing that this story will soon go out to (the) Mentor who will be looking closely at every word. It affected the demand I put on myself. It is a lot like working out with a trainer rather than working out by yourself. You can be just about ready to drop, but with a take-no-whining trainer, you will put in that extra set of reps.
Previously, I wanted to write well enough to sell, and now I am trying to write the best I possibly can. Hopefully that will still sell.
I want to make writing to the best of my abilities a habit, make it stick - 'cause when this MFA is over, who will I be writing for?
It was definitely in need of tailoring. Some parts need taking in and some need letting out. My focus was intensified however, by knowing that this story will soon go out to (the) Mentor who will be looking closely at every word. It affected the demand I put on myself. It is a lot like working out with a trainer rather than working out by yourself. You can be just about ready to drop, but with a take-no-whining trainer, you will put in that extra set of reps.
Previously, I wanted to write well enough to sell, and now I am trying to write the best I possibly can. Hopefully that will still sell.
I want to make writing to the best of my abilities a habit, make it stick - 'cause when this MFA is over, who will I be writing for?
Monday, July 06, 2009
Scream 2009
What kind of blogger am I, that I completely neglected to blog or thus attend this year's The Scream Literary Festival?!
The theme this year is "The Book is Dead". Go check out the wake-like Day of the Dead-ish atmosphere.
I aim to be at Wednesday's event, but tonight's is cool too. If you're in T.O. and want to go to the Dennis Lee Reading and dinner on Friday with me, leave a note in the comments.
Tomorrow I'm Fringe-ing. Toronto, you have too many festivals in the summer and it is delicious and frustrating.
The theme this year is "The Book is Dead". Go check out the wake-like Day of the Dead-ish atmosphere.I aim to be at Wednesday's event, but tonight's is cool too. If you're in T.O. and want to go to the Dennis Lee Reading and dinner on Friday with me, leave a note in the comments.
Tomorrow I'm Fringe-ing. Toronto, you have too many festivals in the summer and it is delicious and frustrating.
16 Fake Rules Worth Reading
Pete Tarslaw's 16 Rules of Novel Writing (as posted by The Ragbag*) is hilarious.
The list of rules is from How I Became A Famous Novelist by Steve Hely, which drops July 8th.
Hat tip Mich, who always alerts me to cool things.
*sorry Tammy, but that's the name of the blog!
The list of rules is from How I Became A Famous Novelist by Steve Hely, which drops July 8th.
Hat tip Mich, who always alerts me to cool things.
*sorry Tammy, but that's the name of the blog!
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Sometimes I Post a Picture
'cause I'm not sure you'll ever return if all I post is text!
Venice Beach boardwalk, Los Angeles, California ~ June 30, 2009
I stopped to take this photo because when I glanced at this table I immediately saw Ma Salt and Pa Pepper defending Baby Sugar from the Ketchup Giant - and winning!
You're welcome.
Venice Beach boardwalk, Los Angeles, California ~ June 30, 2009I stopped to take this photo because when I glanced at this table I immediately saw Ma Salt and Pa Pepper defending Baby Sugar from the Ketchup Giant - and winning!
You're welcome.
Harping (Happily) on Harpers
FREE stories from HarperCollins editor Cal Morgan, one per week, at FiftyTwoStories.com. Yippee!
HarperPerennial, imprint of the way awesome covers, has its own blog, The Olive Reader. Add some vodka and vermouth and I'm all set.
What is this "new book publishing model" thing, HarperStudio? I don't know yet, but I aim to find out. I know, I ought to read before I blog, but that would delay the posts even further. I'll come back to this. I think I need to blog the ongoing debate amongst friends as to whether to e-book or not to e-book.
HarperPerennial, imprint of the way awesome covers, has its own blog, The Olive Reader. Add some vodka and vermouth and I'm all set.
What is this "new book publishing model" thing, HarperStudio? I don't know yet, but I aim to find out. I know, I ought to read before I blog, but that would delay the posts even further. I'll come back to this. I think I need to blog the ongoing debate amongst friends as to whether to e-book or not to e-book.
That Old Time Anxiety
I'm actually caught up on my reading. Had to read A Good Man is Hard to Find by Flannery O'Connor and Jesus' Son by Denis Johnson.
I'm caught in that spot between "inspired" and "give up". I have to keep reminding myself that the simplest stories can be breathtakingly beautiful, and the most painful and profound stories can be simply written.
I've written a new story. I'm afraid to look at it. I have to keep polishing an older one too, since I have to send them both in to my mentor (let's just call him Mentor, ok?) in ten days. I have already censored one story by clothing a half-naked character. Why do I do this?!
The anxiety I'm feeling is somewhat wonderful in that I haven't felt this sense of direction and ambition in a long long time. However, the odd manifestation of night-time (almost-)panic attacks is not cool. I've been a bit weird since I got home though what with 3-hour sleep intervals and jaw-clenching and a strange relationship to food. By strange, I mean I entirely forget certain food groups until I feel faint and then need to eat MEAT!!! or KALE!!! urgently. Interesting. Stay tuned for scurvy-watch 2009.
When it's all too much, I just resort to ZooBorns.com, because baby animals make everything better as long as you don't focus on their captivity, endangered status, and dwindling natural habitat!
I'm caught in that spot between "inspired" and "give up". I have to keep reminding myself that the simplest stories can be breathtakingly beautiful, and the most painful and profound stories can be simply written.
I've written a new story. I'm afraid to look at it. I have to keep polishing an older one too, since I have to send them both in to my mentor (let's just call him Mentor, ok?) in ten days. I have already censored one story by clothing a half-naked character. Why do I do this?!
The anxiety I'm feeling is somewhat wonderful in that I haven't felt this sense of direction and ambition in a long long time. However, the odd manifestation of night-time (almost-)panic attacks is not cool. I've been a bit weird since I got home though what with 3-hour sleep intervals and jaw-clenching and a strange relationship to food. By strange, I mean I entirely forget certain food groups until I feel faint and then need to eat MEAT!!! or KALE!!! urgently. Interesting. Stay tuned for scurvy-watch 2009.
When it's all too much, I just resort to ZooBorns.com, because baby animals make everything better as long as you don't focus on their captivity, endangered status, and dwindling natural habitat!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sweet Tweets
I'm following a variety of literary twitterers and wanted to post a round-up of interesting links people have recently posted:
Type: Claudia Dey & Rex Harrington in conversation
A new story, "Childcare", by Lorrie Moore in The New Yorker
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie discusses her new short story collection
Also, my friend Ian sent me the following Marge Piercy poem, For The Young Who Want To, and I'm sharing it with you.
More soon!
Type: Claudia Dey & Rex Harrington in conversation
A new story, "Childcare", by Lorrie Moore in The New Yorker
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie discusses her new short story collection
Also, my friend Ian sent me the following Marge Piercy poem, For The Young Who Want To, and I'm sharing it with you.
More soon!
Blogging
One of the seminars I attended during this residency was a brown bag lunch panel discussion on the role of blogging in media with Dana Goodyear, Mark Sarvas, and Veronique de Turenne, moderated by Kate Gale of Red Hen Press.
I was embarrassed that I had never heard of Maud Newton's litblog or Mark Sarvas' "The Elegant Variation". I will add links to both their blogs on the side.
They discussed the pros & cons of blogging; the time commitment, the danger of procrastinating. I will remember more when I check my notes, but I need to check out of this hotel room shortly.
I asked the panelists about blogging under a pseudonym, and they agreed that there was no "should" or "shouldn't" about it, just whatever one is comfortable with and what one wants out of the blog.
The question for me is whether this will eventually be my "author" site, or whether this will remain a personal blog that I'd prefer hidden from googling family members.
To those of you who blog under your real name: Has having your life out on your blog ever had any negative effects?
I was embarrassed that I had never heard of Maud Newton's litblog or Mark Sarvas' "The Elegant Variation". I will add links to both their blogs on the side.
They discussed the pros & cons of blogging; the time commitment, the danger of procrastinating. I will remember more when I check my notes, but I need to check out of this hotel room shortly.
I asked the panelists about blogging under a pseudonym, and they agreed that there was no "should" or "shouldn't" about it, just whatever one is comfortable with and what one wants out of the blog.
The question for me is whether this will eventually be my "author" site, or whether this will remain a personal blog that I'd prefer hidden from googling family members.
To those of you who blog under your real name: Has having your life out on your blog ever had any negative effects?
Friday, June 19, 2009
A Letter to America
Dear America,
I love your "service with a smile". I love your twang... most of the time. I love your artists, your bluster, your swagger, your grand buildings with the names of philanthropists on the front. Your optimism, even when your economy sucks.
I love your absurd portion sizes, your ridiculous menu creations (donut french toast? whipped cream on everything?), your retro diners, your retro grocery packaging, the way you say "uh-huh" instead of "you're welcome". I love your opinionated self. I love your free refills, and the fact that you still have dollar bills, so that holding three of them feels like money and not change.
I (have grown to) love (even though it drives me CRAZY) the perverse dedicated way that ALL the gardeners in LA absolutely refuse to dead-head their roses, leaving overblown, blousy roses outside all the buildings, like aging starlets in faded summer dresses (scheming to hide the new blooms).
I love Broadway, and paying the U.S. price on things, even though there's the exchange rate to factor in. I love that I can justify this blog entry by pretending that it's an assignment for "The List as Post-Narrative Structure". I love that your sale prices are actually a bargain and not just marked-down mark-ups.
I know we don't agree on everything, and that I could make a list just as long with negative things, but I won't, 'cause that's not what love is about.
I love your "service with a smile". I love your twang... most of the time. I love your artists, your bluster, your swagger, your grand buildings with the names of philanthropists on the front. Your optimism, even when your economy sucks.
I love your absurd portion sizes, your ridiculous menu creations (donut french toast? whipped cream on everything?), your retro diners, your retro grocery packaging, the way you say "uh-huh" instead of "you're welcome". I love your opinionated self. I love your free refills, and the fact that you still have dollar bills, so that holding three of them feels like money and not change.
I (have grown to) love (even though it drives me CRAZY) the perverse dedicated way that ALL the gardeners in LA absolutely refuse to dead-head their roses, leaving overblown, blousy roses outside all the buildings, like aging starlets in faded summer dresses (scheming to hide the new blooms).
I love Broadway, and paying the U.S. price on things, even though there's the exchange rate to factor in. I love that I can justify this blog entry by pretending that it's an assignment for "The List as Post-Narrative Structure". I love that your sale prices are actually a bargain and not just marked-down mark-ups.
I know we don't agree on everything, and that I could make a list just as long with negative things, but I won't, 'cause that's not what love is about.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Beginnings!
Things I managed to do today (by "today" I mean since 12am):
Finished reading Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosley. It was terrific and I should have read it years ago.
Started re-reading The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett.
Had lunch with a friend-of-a-friend who is more-or-less where I was at for the last six months, and I was able to confidently say to her, "don't worry, you'll figure it out".
Remembered to put sunscreen on my shins and the tops of my feet, but did not remember to sunscreen my thighs. Wore a short-ish skirt. Have the dumbest looking tan EVER. Half my thighs are pasty white, half are tanned and my knees are slightly burned. Picture it - you could use a good laugh.
Got spaghetti sauce on my shirt. Naturally. (I can make spaghetti here because it's an "apartment-style" hotel with a kitchenette.)
Went to the two-hour orientation seminar for the Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing program I have just started. It was terrific. Tomorrow the actual seminars and lectures and introductions to software (for the online portion) begin. I'm really excited. I have a ton of reading to do. I will also have a ton of writing to do, but that part is more intimidating than exciting, so I'm going to ignore it till the next ten days are over.
I dreamt of David Bowie again. I do occasionally dream of David Bowie and Madonna. In the last dream, David showed me his art collection* and then David and my cousin and I played a practical joke on my other cousin. It involved David wearing a fake rubber nose. It was hilarious. In the dream.
I wrote this blog entry. I thought of you and you and you and you.
* I have no idea what kind of art David Bowie actually collects.
Finished reading Devil in a Blue Dress by Walter Mosley. It was terrific and I should have read it years ago.
Started re-reading The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett.
Had lunch with a friend-of-a-friend who is more-or-less where I was at for the last six months, and I was able to confidently say to her, "don't worry, you'll figure it out".
Remembered to put sunscreen on my shins and the tops of my feet, but did not remember to sunscreen my thighs. Wore a short-ish skirt. Have the dumbest looking tan EVER. Half my thighs are pasty white, half are tanned and my knees are slightly burned. Picture it - you could use a good laugh.
Got spaghetti sauce on my shirt. Naturally. (I can make spaghetti here because it's an "apartment-style" hotel with a kitchenette.)
Went to the two-hour orientation seminar for the Low-Residency MFA in Creative Writing program I have just started. It was terrific. Tomorrow the actual seminars and lectures and introductions to software (for the online portion) begin. I'm really excited. I have a ton of reading to do. I will also have a ton of writing to do, but that part is more intimidating than exciting, so I'm going to ignore it till the next ten days are over.
I dreamt of David Bowie again. I do occasionally dream of David Bowie and Madonna. In the last dream, David showed me his art collection* and then David and my cousin and I played a practical joke on my other cousin. It involved David wearing a fake rubber nose. It was hilarious. In the dream.
I wrote this blog entry. I thought of you and you and you and you.
* I have no idea what kind of art David Bowie actually collects.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Overheard in My Life
On the Phone with My Mother
Mom: Why is your cat crying like that? Is she hungry?
Me: That's not my cat, that's Patsy Cline.
*
In the Elevator with a Young Male Stranger
Me: (said matter-of-factly right as I got on the elevator) You smell nice.
Him: It's Axe.
Me: Oh... no...
*
Dad on the Phone with Sister
Dad: Oh... Where? Yeah...Good! You can see the Bell - that Bell they have... yeah, or cream cheese...
(At which point I cracked up 'cause I knew the other part of the conversation was my sister talking about a possible visit to Philadelphia.)
Mom: Why is your cat crying like that? Is she hungry?
Me: That's not my cat, that's Patsy Cline.
*
In the Elevator with a Young Male Stranger
Me: (said matter-of-factly right as I got on the elevator) You smell nice.
Him: It's Axe.
Me: Oh... no...
*
Dad on the Phone with Sister
Dad: Oh... Where? Yeah...Good! You can see the Bell - that Bell they have... yeah, or cream cheese...
(At which point I cracked up 'cause I knew the other part of the conversation was my sister talking about a possible visit to Philadelphia.)
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
This is Not a Message
Not a message, just sharing some amazing lyrics off Paul Simon's "Surprise" album. I took it out from the library, and I may have to buy it.
Another Galaxy (by Paul Simon)
On the morning of her wedding day, when no one was awake, she drove across the border. Leaving all the yellow roses on her wedding cake. Her mother's tears, her breakfast order.
She's gone, gone, gone.
There is a moment, a chip in time, when leaving home is the lesser crime.
When your eyes are blind with tears, but your heart can see: another life, another galaxy.
That night her dreams are storm-tossed as a willow. She hears the clouds, she sees the eye of a hurricane, as it sweeps across her island pillow.
But she's gone, gone, gone.
There is a moment, a chip in time, when leaving home is the lesser crime.
When your eyes are blind with tears, but your heart can see:
Another life, another galaxy.
Monday, June 08, 2009
I'm Ba-aack (and a note on nail-biting)
Yes, I've been a very very bad blogger. But here I am, back with a renewed sense of purpose. I have lists of things I intended to blog about, and probably never will. For now, I will just quote a snippet of conversation.
For a few years, I've wondered why whenever I am not quite all "well" (in a neutral or depressed state) I stop biting my nails. Then they grow, and I polish them and they look fab. As soon as I'm back to "normal", I start biting them again.
ME: "I've been biting my nails again. It's always when I'm feeling better. I can't understand why. What does it mean? It doesn't make any sense."
FRIEND: "It makes sense."
ME: "It does?"
FRIEND: "Sure. When you're down, your apathy overrides your anxiety."
Me: !
Current fave nail polish colours: OPI Malaysian Mist, China Glaze Purple Panic, OPI Up Front and Personal. Yours?
For a few years, I've wondered why whenever I am not quite all "well" (in a neutral or depressed state) I stop biting my nails. Then they grow, and I polish them and they look fab. As soon as I'm back to "normal", I start biting them again.
ME: "I've been biting my nails again. It's always when I'm feeling better. I can't understand why. What does it mean? It doesn't make any sense."
FRIEND: "It makes sense."
ME: "It does?"
FRIEND: "Sure. When you're down, your apathy overrides your anxiety."
Me: !
Current fave nail polish colours: OPI Malaysian Mist, China Glaze Purple Panic, OPI Up Front and Personal. Yours?
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Women on the Verge of a New Series
How apropos - Fox TV Studios is developing "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" for television.
Looks like they are aiming it at the boomer void between Sex in the City and The Golden Girls. Perhaps inspired by the success of Desperate Housewives? Not a bad idea on paper. Anyhow, if they manage to maintain some of the European aesthetic sensibility (i.e. putting a moratorium on Botox in the contracts, maybe?), and designing the interiors so they don't look like, well, sitcom sets, this might be fun, but without Almodovar actually attached to creatively consult in any way, it might also lose what makes the film so compelling in the first place. I just don't want it to be some sort of "Hope and Faith" or whatever that show is called. Blech.
Looks like they are aiming it at the boomer void between Sex in the City and The Golden Girls. Perhaps inspired by the success of Desperate Housewives? Not a bad idea on paper. Anyhow, if they manage to maintain some of the European aesthetic sensibility (i.e. putting a moratorium on Botox in the contracts, maybe?), and designing the interiors so they don't look like, well, sitcom sets, this might be fun, but without Almodovar actually attached to creatively consult in any way, it might also lose what makes the film so compelling in the first place. I just don't want it to be some sort of "Hope and Faith" or whatever that show is called. Blech.
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