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Tuesday, September 9th, 2003 04:04 pm


I am in love with situations, want to frame them and hang them on a wall, I love to try and find those thousand words, implications and backstory and everything, of these images in my brain. I have no plots, really; there are two points for me, beginning and end, and I draw a somewhat curvy line connecting them and there are usually little-to-no pit stops in between.

I have a love affair with words, the way they flow and permutate, and am at heart a poet, in the strictest sense.

It is not a compliment.

Because I am not a novelist. I am not even a short-novelist.

And I don’t know that I can really accept that. I turn green with envy at the volume of words produced by others; but, for me, it's near impossible. I can’t have a work be both a novel and a poem, there is practically no way I can sustain poetry to a novel’s length without either losing the point, the energy, or the audience. (Those authors who *can* however, have my most deepest respect and awe)

I love the written word for its layers and my love for a story grows greater with the number of times I could read a piece and still be surprised with something new. It is not straightforward at all, not linear at all, and I love it for the surprise and for showing me something new, over and over again. And incidentally, this is also how I try to write.

I'm sorry if it disturbes you.

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