Well, yes, it's been a while since I updated this. It's really a question of having the time; I was in the throes of a move, which, if you've done it, you know it knocks you out. Nevertheless, here we are.
Been reworking in earnest parts of West Coast Hearts, as I was struck with some great inspiring incidences. Needless to say, they will be augmented to accommodate the tale. But the takeaway is that the scenes and incidences definitely work in the scheme.
Went back and re-read parts of Richard Yates' masterful Revolutionary Road. I know I've mentioned that thing in here; it's an extraordinary and timeless novel.
Yates was a great observer. His later novel, The Easter Parade, is equally interesting and compelling though I admit that Road is a far more interesting and postmodern, and certainly more tragic.
What is the California novel, anyway, and what does it tell us?
California is a huge place. Even when you get as far north as San Francisco you've still got several hundred miles until Oregon. It's a state of transitions; none of it never really looks like any other part; the southland is hot and dry and desertlike; the mid coast is awash in drowsy light and rolling hills; the Bay Area is a clear, shining beacon enshrouded sometimes in a forgetful, timeless fog; Wine country is completely out of reach; and the rest of it northward is ageless farmland. It's an extraordinary place.
So I would imagine there are many stories to this storied state. It is truly a "west of The West" place, and I think all Californians will take that.
We recently drove off the Ventura Freeway inland, about 10 or so miles, to Ojai where we had coffee and slipped back in time that part of the Golden State that I love. It's here I wish to find myself again. And it's here that I began to rethink this writing project.
It will be a tragedy, as I've always thought. It will painted against the heartbreaking beauty of this state. And in the end you will be breathless.
