Henry James

I recently started reading Portrait of a Lady by Henry James, and there's this quote I absolutely love in his Preface:

"Strangely fertilizing, in the long run, does a wasted effort of attention often prove."

When I read that it just felt so affirming. And perhaps in an it's okay that I'm not getting as much done as I'd like kind of way, and I know I could easily use it as an excuse, but I'm not going to. I'm not saying that writing doesn't require an immense amount of energy because it certainly does. I'm not one of those people who can whip out story after story in no time at all, and I'm not sure anyone really is, but Chekhov came pretty close (the guy wrote two hundred stories and only lived to age 44). But the phrase made me feel a little less guilt for experiencing the life that I'm living instead of sequestering myself somewhere quiet. However, some of this relief, no doubt, is because I have definitely been writing more lately. (I'm writing right now...) I'm working on two new short stories, one of which I started while in St Petersburg, and one I started two weeks ago.

But it's like some of us discussed while in Russia: some people were getting a lot of writing done while we were there. I think I wrote a total of two days, one of which was really creatively productive. Okay, not counting the little bits of poetry and journalling I did here and there. But still. Some people can't write in Russia, I think that's how one guy put it. And I totally get that. There's too much going on, there's too much to take in, to process, especially if one is hoping to work on a project that has nothing to do with the journey one is on at the time. And that's what James was talking about, specifically Venice. Next sentence:

"It all depends on how the attention has been cheated, has been squandered."

So I don't mind that I don't come home every night after work and force myself to write so many words or so many sentences or pages, a certain amount of time on a certain story. I'm glad for the great conversation, the whiskey and the wine (not to mention that bison grass infused vodka I had at Richardson's a few weeks ago: yummy!). There is a lot to take in, to process. And it's slowly coming out in words on a page. And sometimes it comes quickly. And someday I will be able to spend more of my time with this, and less waiting tables. But for now, for the long run, my effort of attention may be strangely fertilized and I may be slightly wasted.