Filed under writing

Beautiful Sentences: Tommy Orange

Those hills bend time.

Tommy Orange, There There.

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Beautiful Sentences: Emily Banks

We close our own dead’s eyes so we can’t see
this pupilless despair, the final begging prayers
of a godless animal.

Emily Banks, “Thaw.”

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Beautiful Sentences: Fernando Pessoa

And I smile to myself as I think that life, which includes these pages bearing the names of fabrics and various sums of money, blank spaces, ruled lines and letters, also includes the great navigators, the great saints, the poets of every age, none of whom appear in this book, a whole vast progeny excluded by those who determine what is of value in the world.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet.

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Writerly resolutions, April Status

The novel feels like it’s going better, although the numbers reveal I wrote just 2,273 words, which is more than last month, but less than I would have liked.

Short story statuses: nothing new put into submissions but I’m beginning to get some minor traction with the new stories and revising the long story.

Beautiful Sentences: Joy Williams

Little children were too innocent to provide salvation. Indeed, little children were always leading their elders right into the teeth of death.

Joy Williams, The Changeling.

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Beautiful Sentences: Fernando Pessoa

There is no work of art that could not have been more perfect. Read line by line, no poem, however great, has no single line that could not be improved upon, no episode that could not be more intense, and the whole is never so perfect that it could not be even more perfect.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet.

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Beautiful Sentences: Joy Williams

They had provided her with substitutions and she had lived safely in the brightness of false things.

Joy Williams, The Changeling.

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Beautiful Sentences: Fernando Pessoa

We know that the book we will never write will be bad. Even worse will be the one we put off writing. At least the book that has been written exists. It may not be very good, but it exist, like the miserable little plant in the lone flowerpot belonging to my crippled neighbor.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet.

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Writerly resolutions, March Status

I continue to not progress well with my writing. 2019 is looking like it’s going to be a difficult year. Just 1,369 words on the novel which represents me slowing down even more than I had previously.

Short story statuses: I’ve not yet come back to the long story, nor have I made much progress on the new story. I did get the story I workshopped in early February into submissions, with no responses yet.

Rejection continue to get me down although in the midst of all of this, I finally got an acceptance. Numerically my submission stats are still in the toilet, though.

Beautiful Sentences: Joy Williams

Pearl’s life … avoided meaning as the bird does the snare.

Joy Williams, The Changeling.

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