Ah! the memories!

Up north writing at my friends’ kitchen table again. It’s a little ironic since this is where I used to do my homework when I stayed here during middle school. Talk about weird flashbacks. I keep thinking I’m not old enough to be writing or reading what I am and need to floss my braces. Does anyone actually miss middle school? Certainly not me. I haven’t even gotten nostalgic about freshman year of college. (Which sucked, by the way.)

I’m working on query letters today. And I finally learned to spell ‘query.’ Two r’s right? Kidding. Hopefully Dana and I can get to work finishing the first book so my block can smooth out. I still think block is all in the writer’s mind, but I’m trying to keep the momentum of one project up so the momentum on the others goes to shit, for lack of a better term.

I’ve been reading Contemporary American Poetry this morning. It’s a college book that we only read a few poems in so I thought I’d give it a read now that I don’t have to. Makes sense, right? Yeah not really, I know. Still wading my way through Pamela. I skimmed the last twenty-five pages and didn’t miss a thing. Just a note: Please don’t base anything on my recommendation of Pamela. It’s a good book, just not blowing my skirt up, as my ol’ ma used to say. I think it’s among the first books considered as modern novels. That’s why I started to read the book in the first place. English major interest and all. But just because I turn into a narcoleptic every time I open the book, doesn’t mean that it’s a book to miss. It’s just literature to read in bed so no one has a traffic accident because the driver nodded off while the passenger reads Pamela. (Hey, Dad fell asleep while I read Pamela. It could happen.)

Happy Days.