Youmans (pronounced like 'yeoman' with an 's' added)
is the best-kept secret among contemporary American writers.
--John Wilson, editor, Books and Culture

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Tell



















Since you know all, and I nothing, tell me what I dreamed last night.
--George Herbert, Jacula Prudentum

***
The royalty free "Dream Staircase" is by Reena Young of San Francisco, www.sxc.hu/

9 comments:

  1. You dreamed that your daughter would make it into Alpha! And then she grew up to be a most famous author. You must be precognitive!

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  2. Confetti for R! R of Alpha!

    While I am toiling over the pots, she will be spinning her magic tales...

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  3. blondell torres, p. i.10:03 PM, May 15, 2006

    You dreamed of mice and dirigibles...

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  4. You dreamed of other lands, inhabited by spirits, and shadows of spirits, that took wing when the sun rose glittering with peach gold. They will come again when the writing does, and be set forever in stone upon the barren page.

    By the way, I'm working on the Razor Blue/Solace book, and writing poetry. Not telling anymore, just that. One must have something to do while watching 28 children take a test for two days; at two hours a day. I have the basics down in my head and notes on paper, nothing more.

    I also got an e-mail from Linda K. saying Carrie was putting the anthology into the self publishing format thingy. Hope it comes soon. I'd like to read the others stories. That is the people's stories who would not share at NCCAT.

    Also, I am really, really, really sending you the money for the book special. I lost your address and just re-wrote it down and am taking it to the post office now.

    Much love,
    Donna

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  5. I wonder. Perhaps you dreamed you were in Adantis. Ku, my head is still spinning with the wonders of it all. I just finished The Curse of the Raven Mocker again, and I am absolutely entranced as to how you thought all those things. Did the book run away from you, living it's own life and it just seemed like you were writing it all down? Or did you control every aspect of the story? I am always curious as to what happens to the writer between the pages.

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  6. Hello, you known and unknown--

    l. s. manet,

    Yes, confetti of the very first order, mingled with flowers and rain drops and little tree frogs. Congratulations.

    ***

    Blondell Torres,
    the blond toreador?

    Really! I think you sent me some SPAM, didn't you? I sent it to the Gulf of Spam, where letters go to die and Hawaiians go to eat dinner.

    Dirigibles, indeed. You've been watching too much Miyazaki.

    ***

    Donna,

    I wonder how many of the NCCATers are plugging away... Keep it up. Yes, I imagine we'll see stories by all those who were willing to read them when we were in Cullowhee--and maybe one or two by the shy guys.

    ***

    Katie,

    I would say that the whole thing is a kind of paradox, where a writer knows everything as it floods out--knows it in a way that is on a deeper, more instinctual level than what we know ordinarily. Yet I can be wholly surprised by what I find in revision. And three years later, I might struggle to remember a character's name... One knows intimately, fundamentally, but then one gives it all away and hopes that somebody like you has the heart to make it over new by reading and meeting the book where it is and rejoicing.

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  7. Perhaps you dreamed of bright summer sun, tracing its way along green leaves. Or maybe of deep waters with dark velvety ripples. But I do not truly know, for I know nothing of dreams other than my own.

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  8. Perhaps you dreamed of bright summer sun, tracing its way along green leaves. Or maybe of deep waters with dark velvety ripples. But I do not truly know, for I know nothing of dreams other than my own.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Then you must follow the little staircase down, down, down, into the heart of that violet glow...

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Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.