Scrotums Being Cut Out
I have been thinking about writing in terms of the process of the thing, the way the idea crawls out of the authors head and manages to take on a life of its own independently. This image has been stuck in my head for days - that of Richard Dreyfus in Close Encounters of the Third Kind sculpting his mashed potatoes - changing them from a big white blob into a mountain. I feel like that when I write - I am a massive reviser and polisher. Sometimes it bogs me down.

And on and on and on...

Speaking of scrotums, everyone should immediately go out and buy a copy of Susan Patron's Newbury Award Winning book, The Higher Power of Lucky, whether you have kids or not. It's catching flak from certain school librarian-types and uptight/confused community members for using the word scrotum in the text. Maybe the publisher should release a version with scrotum replaced by Hoo-Ha. What is wrong with these people?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."

You said it Will...

20 February 2007


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