I'm in some kind of a rut these last few days. Maybe I've made a leap with Janna? Somehow crossed over to a higher level of writing? Or maybe it's just wishful thinking, an illusion. Or maybe the idea of sandwiching drafts from two different novels was a big fat mistake...whatever the reason, I can't shake off the feeling of dismay and disappointment and disgust when I got done reading the third draft of TUBE. When I was writing it, I was so excited about the whole idea, and when I finished reading it after a three-months break, I thought, "Well, if I were an agent reading this as a submission, I'd have rejected it after the first page." And then I thought, "Or, if I were an editor, I'd rip the writer a new asshole for sending me this shallow glitzy bit of story."
So I asked myself, "Why? Why don't I like it anymore?" And then I remembered an experience I had once seeing two movies in a row. I went to see an independently produced film at SIFF and some minutes after it ended I went to see Moulin Rouge!, and after sitting through a couple opening scenes I felt nauseated and wanted to walk out. The festival movie has moved me so profoundly that the Hollywood movie right after it seemed superfluous, needlessly pompous, juvenile, empty.