On Saturday I misplaced my only hairbrush, but I didn’t notice until Tuesday. Now the squirrels have moved in to build their nests. My hairbrush should arrive in the mail tomorrow, but meanwhile I have become used to squirrel babies pooping down the back of my neck. And the literary advice they whisper in my ear has really improved the direction of my novel.
One Star Watt
where Wistar writes whatever she wants for her own private amusement
This post is starting to worry me. This and then………silence. did the critters get you? Should I come over with a sword, bleach and a chocolate bar?
My brother saved the day by mailing my hairbrush yesterday (I’d left it in his car). But I miss those little critters. I can still smell their poop and rabies on the nape of my neck.
God that is touching. I’m getting misty just thinking about it.
Hey, if you happen to run across any of those novel-improving squirrels, would you send one my way?
Maud, I love your writing, and you definitely do not need the help of my hair squirrels. But I can offer you the editorial services of my crabs. These itchy critters actually helped write Nabokov’s Pale Fire.
I wouldn’t say no.
Okay, maybe I would say no. But that’s right now. If you ask me again when I’m up writing at 3 o’clock in the morning, I’d probably have a different answer.
Maybe we should just leave it at no?
Hope your writing’s going well. That MFA program made a Bad Decision. Hold onto the rejection so you can frame it later.