When I raved about modern inventions last week,
I did not know I was doing that jinxing thing.
My laptop got attacked by viruses and was gone for a week.
So much for inventions!
I've since decided that if the road to hell is paved with good intentions,
then the road to writer's hell is paved with mediocre inventions.
I'm picturing the side of the road to writer's hell.
littered with frazzled computers. loops of typewriter ribbon.
classics "adapted for the modern reader."
disposable pens that dry out every week. wads of paper.
books that you wouldn't pick up even if you had to sit five hours in a hard little doctor's office chair and blow spit bubbles and hum to yourself:
"The Fly-Fishing Murders," "My Gas Station Romance," "Irritable Bowel Syndrome Gets Personal, "Gregory, the Reptile Detective."
plus every single rejection I've earned displayed twenty feet-high on the signposts.
So instead of wallowing on the road to writer's hell,
I am looking for a yellow brick road. To Oz if possible,
or at least a good wizard.
Albus Dumbledore would be even better.
How am I going to avoid writer's hell?
depend on keys less, pen and ink more.
soak up what's before me today.
What waiting room books would be in your writer's hell?
(Made up titles, of course.)