Writing a novel is marathon running. Writing a novel is that sort of weird process where it seems for a long time you’re not making any progress at all. It’s like trying to build a wall or dig a ditch across miles and miles, and you just do it, one word at a time. You’re going to have the good writing days, and you’re doing to have the bad writing days, and it’s going to take a year or two years, or more, to get to the end. — Neil Gaiman, genius author of Fragile Things, American Gods, Coraline and
It took me forever to find a perfectly plain, simple winter jacket. It’s half biker-style, half utilitarian, and very warm. With my favorite scarf this winter. Also, this pair of jeans is on its last legs, so I’m commemorating them with a picture. Tears. All my favorite winter things.
So this past July I went to Rockaway Beach in Queens, which I had never been to before. The waves are crazy, it’s easy to get thrashed in the surf, and the sand goes for miles. It’s surprisingly “undeveloped” in terms of auxiliary businesses, and all that beach gives everyone lots of room. It’s a very relaxing experience, so different from the eccentricity of Coney Island. (Although no Nathan’s Hot Dogs!) I brought along my Kodak Zi8 and shot lots of bits of footage. I like the collage format…you can see the progression of the day lined up on the