Weekend Guide: 08.20.2021
i don't want to know the cause of anything
I want the unlock the story within. Rent a cabin and write a novel. Not because it would be good. But to get it out of my system. I read because I love to read, sure. I also read to gather ammo. I’m hoarding resources like a doomsday-prepper — Ideas. Dialogue. Character traits. Turns of phrase — For the far away day when I try and make up a story.
Awaiting the lightning strike ⚡️. I continue to read. Trying everything on for size. Looking for something that fits. What is my made up story going to be about? How made up will it actually be?
It’s unlikely that whatever I do write ends up on The New York Times Bestseller List. So, might as well wing it.
Do whatever you want.
This is all yours.
I read Modern Love by Constance De Jong (1977) this week. And it’s still sort of looping over and over in my head. Burning and distorting. I keep asking myself. Could I write something like this?
It’s jumpy. Repetitive. Hard to read at times.
It bends genres. Real. Fake. It’s a fever dream.
Maybe the shoe fits. 👠
In Modern Love De Jong did whatever she wanted. She made a story all her own. It takes place across continents and time - but is told from the perspective of a ‘27 year old broke female loser who’s told by the culture that she’s free to say and do anything she wants’.
"People used to tell me, if you keep on writing maybe you'll make a name for yourself, they were right: My name's Constance DeJong. My name's Fifi Corday. My name's Lady Mirabelle, Monsieur Le Prince, and Roderigo. Roderigo's my favorite name. First I had my father's name, then my husband's, then another's. I don't know. I don't want to know the cause of anything.”
I still can’t really describe it. The publisher does a pretty good job though:
It is science fiction. It is a detective story. It is a historical episode in the time of the Armada and the dislocation of Sephardic Jews from Spain to an eventual location in New York’s Lower East Side. It is a first-person narrator’s story; Charlotte’s story; and Roderigo’s; and Fifi Corday’s. It is a 150-year-old story about Oregon and the story of a house in Oregon.
Modern Love It feels disarmingly human. The morning after. That moment right when you make eye contact with the mirror.
Follow the thread of a passing thought all the way through. I dare you. Then try to bring it back. That is Modern Love.
I may need to read it again. Or maybe you can give it a try.
Modern Love was originally written in installments, assembled in booklets by DeJong herself, and mailed to 500 people with the envelopes ordered by zip code. The writing and sending spanned from ’75-’77.
This is how you will receive my novel. In installments, assembled in booklets and mailed right to your doorstep. Or maybe I will send it to you in weekly increments here in the Weekend Guide.