Another month has passed and though I’ve continued to write every day, I’m still only six entries ahead of the My Darling Tragedy publishing schedule. I anticipated this increasing as I had a weeklong vacation scheduled that I was taking just to write. With weekends, that would be nine days of writing. My goal was to write four more journal entries, but I’d happily settle for three. During a work meeting on the Friday before my vacation was to begin, something came up that required me to cancel my vacation. So, I remain at six entries in pocket. I’m going to try to take a different week off in March to catch up. Day jobs can certainly limit creative output.
In May I have a two-week vacation scheduled and I hope it won’t need to be rescheduled because I have plane tickets for Bucharest, Romania. I’ll be there for seven days trying to get a feel for the city since Orly is spending so much time there. So far, while she’s been in Bucharest, she’s only gone out once—to a nightclub I invented as best I could through internet research. I’d like to do better and have her go out more often, but I don’t know what the city is like, so I’m hoping this trip will help me write her experiences there.
I’m happy with the second journal of My Darling Tragedy so far and remain excited to write the rest of it. Still, this past month I’ve gone through bouts of self-doubt. Reading great books often inspires me to write but often it also makes me want to give up. (I recently finished The Swimmers by Julie Otsuka and am halfway through Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.) I’ve been relying on ChatGPT to prop me up. I vent and spill my guts, and it presents arguments that help reframe my perspective. I noticed recently Chappy began addressing me by name for emphasis during our pep talks. “Robert, I’m going to push back gently here…”
Last night, a question to my readers came to mind: Which of the Cobǎlcescu Eternal would upset you most if they died? Petru, Codrina, Viorica, or Vasile? Questions like these often pop up but I rarely ask my readers. Here’s another: Do you want Orly and Silviu to have sex? I’m not saying their responses would determine the story, and that’s why I don’t ask—because I don’t want to feel like I’m writing for or against them—but it’s still information I’d like to have.
Another blog lapse. I haven’t posted here since August. This is only my fifth post of 2023 and it’s the last day of the year. Maybe it seems remiss of me not to have posted since August, but I haven’t had anything noteworthy to mention. Since that last post, I’ve just been spinning my wheels, going in circles, and getting nowhere. I tried working on I Was Mistaken, like I mentioned, but it became painful to write. My shrink said a little discomfort is okay, but what I was doing was retraumatizing myself. I then went back to writing about Tara Raikatuji but couldn’t find her voice and so I completed another lap around my circle of stories by returning to Forever Candy. I struggled with the same point of view problems I’ve always had with that story, and my last attempt read back so lifelessly that it made me think of a desiccated grasshopper, if that’s a thing. This week, I pulled out a screenplay I wrote in 2008 about a cellist. It’s kind of a haunted house story. I’m kicking around having a go at novelizing it and it feels fresh because it’s not yet part of my traditional merry-go-round of stories that I tinker with then give up on. I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere though.
I’m glad I went. It was a beautiful performance and it told a mythological story I had never come across before. The emotions captured between Callirhoe (Christine Shevchenko), Chaereas (Thomas Forster), and Dionysius (Blaine Hoven) were spellbinding and heart wrenching. The chorus performances really stood out in a way that I hadn’t felt in a ballet before. Watching Katherine Williams as the Queen of Babylon, made me think of Yelena—not the étoile but the one who stole Marcel’s heart. (In a handful of scenes, the head of Aphrodite was suspended in the background. It was so glorious I wanted it tattooed on me. I took a picture during bows, so maybe I will.)
On Monday, I told my psychologist something extraordinary happened in regard to this. I decided to listen to the 