Today was a v. relaxing random vacation day, even if I didn't write nearly as much as I intended. I spent the morning and early afternoon taking care of sundry issues that are difficult to do on weekends -- I finally resolved the tire pressure issue, dropped off fifteen sweaters, four skirts, and a pair of pants at the dry cleaner's, talked to my doctor about getting a prescription refill, bought some stuff for my Halloween costume (and a new notebook, which I didn't need, but I have a paper fetish), and talked to my financial adviser. None of this was book-related, but it was all necessary to the overall order of my life, so I'm glad it's all taken care of.
After I got off the phone with my finance person, I packed up my laptop and walked down to Samovar in Yerba Buena Gardens. I made a stop at Sephora in search of bubble bath, and when I didn't find any that I wanted, I was very good and didn't console myself by buying lipgloss -- perhaps my lack of spending is unpatriotic, but considering that I'm still recovering from six months of unpaid leave + a trip to Europe, and want to go to Bermuda, Japan, Singapore, Iowa x3, Texas, Washington D.C., Chicago, and Boston next year (clearly impossible, even if I technically could swing the vacation days), refraining from buying lipgloss is necessary. However, I did go to the Body Shop and buy bubble bath, so clearly I haven't completely reformed.
I also bought two kinds of loose-leaf tea at Samovar. The first is their masala chai blend (which is the whole reason I went to Samovar -- I've been on a masala chai kick recently, and I like theirs even if it's served in a handmade, handleless, undoubtedly fair trade/'organic' clay mug that burns my fingers) so that I can make chai at home. The second is their breakfast blend because I had a pot of that after my chai today and thought it was some of the best tea that I've had in awhile. Tea is definitely my favorite beverage (even above Cherry Coke Zero, which makes my technologically-advanced heart a little sad, since tea has been around for centuries and Cherry Coke Zero was created in a lab) -- hot or iced, spiced or plain, sweetened or unsweetened (although I prefer sweetened -- I would do well in the South), I like it all. The only downside is that I can't stand to drink it out of a paper cup, which makes it difficult to find when I'm out and about. I'll drink Starbucks products out of paper any day of the week, but tea is more delicate, and I swear I can taste the cup when I drink tea out of something disposable. Luckily, I drink enough tea at home and in cafes that I can stand to drink something else when paper is the only option.
I meant to write a new chapter for my book today, but I just couldn't get into the mood. I have the idea, but am having trouble starting -- I think I've been away from writing too long. This may sound silly, since I work on the book whenever I can. But, for the past couple of months, I haven't written much new material -- it's all been revisions of existing stuff. This causes some anxiety now that I'm confronted again by the blank page. Clearly I need to finish this book so that I can start working on the next one!
I spent most of the evening reading the first few chapters of The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe. It's one of the preeminent Gothic romances of the late 18th century, and it influenced the Gothic romance craze that swept England during the first decades of the 1800s. I vaguely remember reading Radcliffe's The Romance of the Forest for a class on Gothic literature at Stanford -- a class that I now wish I had paid more attention to, although I couldn't spend a lot of time on it because I was taking classes that actually mattered for my major and could ace English classes with relatively little effort. I'm reading Udolpho because Amelia (the heroine of my current book) is secretly a Gothic novelist; while I don't include any fake scenes from her works in my book, I did give a general outline of the plot of her book, and I thought it behooved me to read a real Gothic novel and make sure Amelia's book wasn't too far off. Even though I've only read three chapters, I think I'm all good -- Amelia's book's plot is suitably dramatic, and I'm glad that I'm not including any fake scenes because Radcliffe (and most eighteenth century novelists) is wordy as hell. Her scenery descriptions are lush, but they're so frequent and so verbose that it's almost like the scenery is another character -- which, I suppose, it is, but I'm used to a much more pared-down style these days.
You wouldn't know that I appreciate pared-down styles given the length of my blog posts, so I'm going to cut this one off abruptly and go to bed!
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