The Heros went on ahead, I’m just trying to make it up the next hill

In A post to keep afloat, Absurdlandia, Artists, coffee, Current reading, Fun, Games, Hautvoir, humeurs, Local projects, Music, proto drafts on January 23, 2016 at 8:34 am

The Library of America Story of the Week newsletter usually lands in my inbox on Sunday evenings. This week (someone’s busy weekend schedule ahead?) the Story came out in such a rush the first version of the email contained a photograph of Edith Wharton above the text from last week’s Story. The corrected text followed and congrats to Edith Wharton for both her war work and her writing. What else can I say while I struggle with the frustrations at my infinitesimal attempts at carrying on whatever damned commitments I was stupid enough to take on (and impose on others).

The imposition on others being the worst part of it this morning, in terms of: what next?  For how long? Where’s the exit? A character in a draft annoys you? You get full value out of the annoyance, one way or another (strike him out, stick him into worse trouble, make him a laughing stock, whatever.) But real people with serious problems become a source of endless calls for help – what do you do beyond closing the shutters and putting your phone to sleep for twenty-four hours?

Never mind Wharton and her multiple committees and good deeds for the victims of Word War I. I approached two people yesterday on behalf of others. Their eyes clouded over as soon as they understood this was an appeal for help. Remained amiable – I try to avoid people who’ll pounce on me and reduce me to shreds. Amiable but firm – no, they couldn’t help in any way, good day, good day.

Edith Wharton I am not. That job was taken and well done by Edith Wharton in person. As far as the literary world(s) are concerned, I’m a sixty-nine year old nobody in a nowhere town. Unpublished (no, I don’t consider a blog a publishing, even if that’s what the click says at the top of the page). Keeping one step ahead of whatever new administrative dreck is about to land on me while I extract myself from the previous ones – not all of my doing, far from it. With no idea what further frustrations await when I click the phone back on this morning.

Onward for another full circle in search of solutions? Hurray, hurray. (The bright note: singing at eleven.)


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