You know, I have this suspicion that saying that only works if you're Cary Grant. Still, if you're reading this and you test it out, come back and tell me how it works. I'll be thankful for the laugh. Of course, Grant also has a better quote, which goes, "We have our factory, which is called a stage. We make a product, we color it, we title it and we ship it out in cans."
It's back to working on A Year in the City this week. Last week crawled to a stop with RSI, which I've got to tell you, certainly puts a new spin on that write every day system some writers have. Quite clearly, I'd cripple myself if I did that, so it's a good thing over all these years that I've simply written to the urge. I thought I was just lazy and undisciplined, but the truth is revealed, now. I mean, sure, under my system, you still have to make yourself sit down to write at times, but it's not some day to day thing where, by force of will, you sit and create. RSI, I might add, is certainly a bitch. Feeling the strength leave your hands is simply not a joy. Stretches are good for it if you get a touch of it, and I picked up a pair of those hand crunching things this morning to build strength. 2006: the slow disintegration of my body as I look at thirty. What a bitch.
Anyway, I'm down to the final stretch on the book. Five chapters left, plus an outro chapter, and one of these needs to be completely rewritten from scratch. The second half of this book deals with violence and racial portrayals within it, so things tend to get a bit violent at times. But I find myself doing a lot more shifting and editing and new writing in comparison to the first half, and I wonder how much recent events in Sydney have had an influence on me. Some, I think. It's why I'm killing one chapter, at least, though I probably would've killed that chapter anyway as it was, in technical terms, shit. I've got an itch to do something non linear, as well, so I reckon the two can come together. Still, all up, it's about a week's work, even at a slowed down pace. This time next week it all ought to be done, which is going to be sweet. I can write something different (which I have an idea for and notes all round and just need a couple of days for) and I can stop making blog posts about A Year in the City. We'll all be happy, I tell you.
I have the new Strokes album, First Impressions of Earth. It was an impulse purchase, made because I really dig 'Juicebox', though I'm not a huge Strokes fan. It's not a bad album, but on the first couple of spins, lacks the energy of that track. I'm thinking I should've just downloaded the single.