...And girl-women, women, curved like instruments or fruits, skin burnished brown-bright, suit tops held by delicate knots of fragile colored string against the pull of mysterious weights, suit bottoms riding low over the gentle juts of hips totally unlike your own, immoderate swells and swivels that melt in light into a surrounding space that cups and accommodates the soft curves as things precious. You almost understand.
- Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, David Foster Wallace 1999
It's nearly midnight and I'm supposed to be writing an article about Stan Lee...and writing a DVD animated movie I can't talk about...and a comic I could talk about but don't care to....and reading a script for a show and an outline for a movie and a premise for a short--none of which I can talk about.
All I want to do instead is...read.
Half of my career is based on reading stories with a critical eye, the other half is writing stories that will pass the critical eyes of others. But reading and writing will never truly be "work" to me because each are such intoxicatingly rewarding pleasures that I feel lucky to be capable of either.
Ostensibly, I copied the above passage from Wallace because I want you to read it too, but really, I did it because I want to know what it feels like to write THAT well.
