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Wednesday, July 10, 1996
So now I'm 40. The reality is, it's no different than 39. But the psychological effect is undeniable. I'm more aware of my mortality. I hear about people dying of various horrible diseases and think about it happening to me. I think about the things I haven't done.
On the positive side, I'm not 50 yet. Or dead.
On the whole, things are going well. I'm not making the progress I'd like to my book, but I'm working to change that.
My birthday was yesterday. Rick and I went to the Maryland Science Center and saw Stormchasers. It was an excellent movie. As it turned out, the writer was Mark Olshaker. He's really making a name for himself. We hung out at the museum for a while, then had lunch at Johnny Rocket's, in one of the Harbor pavilions.
Later, we had dinner at the Waterside Restaurant. I had baked salmon in some sort of incredibly rich sauce. Rick had a blackened swordfish. Dessert was amaretto cheesecake, with the cream and raspberry sauce. It was a $51 meal for $33, thanks to the Entertainment book.
The day was filled with pleasant surprises. I got flowers from Mom, champagne from George and Nancy, and a phone call from Bill Reitwiesner.
Today, I was incredibly unmotivated. I did read a story in Rumpole and grate the Parmesan. Oh, boy.
Thursday, July 11, 1996
I finally jumped back into my story, trying to iron out a few things, set a few miscues right. It still needs work, but somehow I feel like I can continue anyway. If I press on, somehow things will fall together.
I managed to write out the conspiracy set up, which was rather crucial to the whole thing. By waiting until Chapter 10 to spell it out, I have created more work for myself, but I'm not convinced that efficiency is necessarily compatible with creativity.
When we were walking around the Maryland Science Center, I was reminded of how much I enjoyed science when I began getting into it during college. I admire the discipline of science—the devotion to truth and objectivity. Each field I've studied has been devoted its own way to truth—science, then journalism, then history and finally law. Now, I'm into fiction writing. But is it not the purpose of fiction to reveal truths that reality hides? Think about that one.
Each field seems to require a different way of thinking. On the scale demonstrating degree of discipline, science would be way up. You would think law would be, too, but in practice, law is incredibly undisciplined. Perhaps the experience of having my own law practice has been the ultimate preparation for writing fiction, an undertaking in which my thinking has been least disciplined, but the need for discipline has arisen, more in the realm of merely forcing myself to do the deed (i.e., the writing) with some degree of regularity.
I am proud to have returned to the story, particularly since I was so firmly convinced that the story just wasn't working and never would.
On other matters, I got a call from Eudora Edwards of EPA. I have an interview with Ray Spears, Rafael DeLeon, and Howard Corcoran. As I recall, this was the kind of interview I had at the "second tier" of my previous consideration by OGC. I was interviewed by Kevin and Pat after my round of interviews with the Division heads. This time, I will be interviewed by the Division head, then (I assume) to assistants.
Rick is not thrilled with the idea of my returning to Waterside. I can't say that I'm thrilled either, but EPA is supposed to move. Of course, they said that before, haven't they ...? The neighborhood around Waterside has completely gone to hell. Well, folks, it's a federal job. I'm not overlooking anything, anywhere. Besides, the Metro was a pain, but the train was kind of nice. I read countless books. If they move closer to Union Station, I might even be able to live with that.
Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my time off while I can. This afternoon, I weeded. What fun. I desperately need to plant groundcover.
The Yankees are leading 4-2, after a 2-run homer by Derek Jeter. Pooh.
