{"id":2319,"date":"2020-06-05T11:40:34","date_gmt":"2020-06-05T11:40:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/suewoolfe.com.au\/pages\/?p=2319"},"modified":"2020-06-08T12:39:42","modified_gmt":"2020-06-08T12:39:42","slug":"day-77","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/suewoolfe.com.au\/pages\/day-77\/","title":{"rendered":"Day 77"},"content":{"rendered":"

Written 5 June, 2020.<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Days of torment about my chapter. My tormentor my editor has said it’s like a re-write of my book\u00a0Th<\/em>e Mystery of the Cleaning<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>Lady: a Novelist Looks at Creativity and Neuroscience<\/em>\u00a0and he’s right, it is; a re-write; then he says it needs typo correcting and the removal of my florid novelistic flourishes and he’s right, it does; a re-write; then the sections under each heading needs to be evened up: they don’t but I even them up any way; a rewrite; I send it off, and studiously avoid any email from him until suddenly my eye is caught by the word “tooth” : he’s needed an urgent operation on a tooth, and none of us writers will hear from him till 14th June, when he’s finished his antibiotics. A few hours ensue and \u00a0then he texts in a most friendly way that he’s sent my chapter off to my heroine, the famous neuroscientist Liane Gabora who I’ve followed for months- in one of my beach videos, I quoted her extensively – and suddenly, it’s all been worth while. And he adds that when it’s been refereed by her, I can put back my florid novelistic bits.<\/p>\n

At the post office, the postmistress holds in her hand the envelope full of masks for my friend in the UK who works without any protection in hospital admin; she asks me what’s in it, and, heart beating, fearing the worst, I tell her, because I can never think fast enough to tell lies. She says it’s illegal to send a mask out of the country. I remember 77 days ago, a Chinese man tried to send tens of thousands of masks out of Australia and it was declared illegal because masks here were in short supply: I cannot believe that now masks are everywhere, it’s illegal to send a paltry six. Besides, they’re not commercial masks, they’re home-made by a theatrical costumier. In my reasoning,that makes a vital difference. I ask if I could send it, how much my envelope would cost. She answers my question as if she doesn’t suspect me, though her eyes flash. $8.30. I ring GG and ask if he has $8.30 in stamps: he does. I rip open the envelope, find another, put the masks inside, decide as a compromise to cut it down to three masks, and at a post box on the footpath outside, post them with $8.00 worth of stamps for luck. I might be arrested but my friend’s life is at stake.<\/p>\n

In the afternoon, coffee with my dear writer friend Libby at Coogee. She’s comforting and warm-hearted and I don’t know how I’ve done without her up the river. I \u00a0cannot watch enough of the shining green caves of breakers that I could hide in,until they like everything else topple, I hide in them, they topple. I struggle with homesickness for my own brooding river. Libby says I should \u00a0send my rejected novel to another publisher who six months ago said she’d love a manuscript from me. Libby’s right. She’s a \u00a0fellow-writer and wants the best for me, and I feel I have the courage to do this until I get back to Marg’s, when I know I can’t. I must re-write it. Sometimes, many times, I wish I didn’t live my life. Someone else, wiser, smarter, should. A life seems too big for one person to live.Too large, too many angles, too many protrusions. It’s like stumbling along carrying a vast, unwieldy, flapping shape, and you’re teetering on a cliff edge. If only a group of smart people \u00a0could do carry it, and decide to go this way or that- watch out for stone, watch out for hillock. \u00a0A committee- no, that wouldn’t work… \u00a0But at least i upload the video, shot on Dy’s beach:<\/p>\n