shaken & stirred

welcome to my martini glass

8.24.2005

hangovers

Did you hear about this year's Romance Writers of America Awards? An account, just in case. (Via MOLES.)

Laura Miller hearts Magic for Beginners. Speaking of which, The Believer review is excellent.

Cecil Castellucci bravely not only rereads her teenage diary, but shares a snippet:

Ian McGowan was not this type at all and I transcribe for you a note I wrote on 2/20/1985 to my best friend (at the time) Cordelia. Ian was Irish and Waspy. He was punk as fuck, had a mohawk, got jaundice once, drank like a fish, and most importantly, gave me a copy of Cyrano de Bergerac, which I slept with under my pillow for 6 months. As you can see, for those in the know, DH was not the only boy who had my heart in 1985. It is safe to say, my heart was a whore.



Dear Cordelia,

If I don't see Ian today I'll definitely die. I need to see him. Now I feel dumb if he knows that I like him, but gosh it's like I (don't) want to marry the boy. It's not love, it's strong like. Now I feel like such a burn out and I'm not even burned out. It's fucking pathetic. I've decided that I hate great students in frnch because they just called the two 99% students out of the room and it's like I can speak french circles around them. Put me in France and I won't need a fucking dictionary. And she knows it. Fuck her. Fuck this school. i don't think I'm coming in tomorrow but I have to because I have 3 tests Friday. Monday, I'm not coming in. We'll meet and do something. Rather, we'll go to B.H.S. (SCREAM!) Definitely we can arrive at like 1:00 and hang out. God that sounds so appealing to me. I wish that I was tall and lanky. Instead, I'm short and lanky. But at least I'm in proportion now. You know I hope they (Pete, Sean and Ian) like the B-day cake. I was going to ask what flavor they liked and we went on a tangent. But see! I can't just ASK!!!!!!

Love Cecil


All my teenage journals of heart ache and break (with healthy doses of pretension and bitchiness thrown in, I'm sure), were consumed by a fire. Between you and me, I've always been kind of glad about that particular part of the fire, but reading that makes me almost wish I could go find them.

Barry Goldblatt on query letters. Query letters are hell.

Hurree reprints a letter from Vandana Singh.

Whoopsie, someone watched the car commercial. (Chicha's back: yay!)

Remember the LitBlog Co-op? Kate Atkinson will be guest blogging there on Monday, August 29. Submit yer questions but not comments now. And there'll be a whole new title recommended shortly. Which reminds me to stop typing and go back to reading.

1 Comments:

  • At 6:46 PM , Blogger cc said...

    ha! yes. there were pages and pages and pages of earnest feelings and dumb young angst. It was a bit of a mind blow.

    I got the mag! hurrah!

    cec

     

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