Tuesday, December 18, 2007


Yes, the Hobbit Shire Soup was good. If you remember two months ago, I wrote a post where I was sipping oolong tea and contemplating Hobbit Shire Soup. It was delicious. I plan to make it tonight mainly because my significant other has not got the cheque that he has been promised and we are down to the last dime in the bank, if that. No one ever said that writers automatically become rich and famous. Hobbit Shire Soup is quick, easy and, most importantly, cheap to make out of pasta, tomatoes,onions, and chickpeas. You have the basic food groups: grain, fruit, vegie, and protein. It's good if you have bay leaf and parsley at hand. A writer's feast.

Oh hell. I am so depressed. I have a manuscript that I would like to get out but the synopsis is just not gelling for me. I know the cheque is in the mail. Isn't it always? That doesn't matter when the mail slot is empty. I understand at these times Chaucer's Complaint to His Purse:"To you, my purse, and to none other wight /Complain I, for you be my lady dear!/ I am so sorry, now that you be light;" The physical container for money is flat and also the bank of imagination. The only things that keep me going are the neighbour kids that occasionally drop by to see my youngest. Some of those children don't get breakfast. I feed them but lately worry if my family is going to make it through the week or to the end of the month with our sparse larder. However, I can't refuse children who say that they are hungry with their being pale thin creatures on my doorstep, and Canadian winters cold and without regard. Mine is just a temporary bump until the cheque arrives. I know that some of these children live in households of seven where there is just enough apartment space for four people.

Perhaps writing is not just for money. Whenever there is a setback or crisis, writing is a lifeline that the neighbour children do not have. I'm holding on tight to the last thread.


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