On writing fiction

I just read an interview with Tessa Hadley, whose short story appeared in a recent edition of the New Yorker. In one part of the interview, Hadley says of the main character:

"He exempts her from the ordinary effort of being her rather carefully constructed self, because he doesn’t recognize the self that she is." 

I suppose this quote doesn't look terribly ground breaking when it's taken out of context, but it hit me (again) how amazing it is that writers are able to so perfectly describe our thoughts and beliefs and our construction of various "selves." We may think that these thoughts and beliefs are unique to us, but they really connect us all; we all think in a similar way. 

But can you imagine being a person who is regularly able to peel back all of those layers and put it into words? I'm not sure I'd have the courage to do it. 

OK, deep thought of the day is over. 

Triple Whammy

I just went out to check the mail (which is now working just fine, as of last week, thanks), and had the best mail SCORE:

Three pieces of mail, all for me. 

1. First issue of the New Yorker subscription Ari got me for Christmas

2. An early birthday postcard from my sister Leah in France. First piece of mail from her! 

3. My new Netflix DVD, which I actually have time to watch tonight! (It's Ed Wood.)

In short, this week is going much better than last week. 

Curse You, New Yorker

BTW, I did NOT achieve my goal of catching up on all the issues of the New Yorker before leaving.

I got through about 10 of them, but I still have about 5 more. I am bringing them with me. And my dad gets to keep receiving them back here, in LA.

I will consider getting my own subscription, but it doesn't seem very logical. Perhaps TimeOut New York will be more my speed.