dearest literate friends

Here follows a group email just sent to the people in my life whom I consider both important and of a literate, if not literary, bent.  It follows here because it occurred to me that some of my dearly beloved readers make up that group, but we don't habitually correspond.

Of course, some of you think I'm crazy, and I haven't been overly driven to dissuade you of that notion -- although this ought to do it:

dearest literate friends:

i am considering finishing the second chapter of my novel, after i rewrite the first, of course.  however, the monkey on my back is driving me batty.  therefore, this email, akin to a gentle overnight laxative made for women.

in reference to references some of you have repeatedly made (or thought), mostly in the form of formulaic admonitions, written in the guise or attitude of "wise, successful writer/person" to "naive, unpublished scrivener/person," i have found my own formulaic defense! 

to what references do i refer?  well, nicely put, my tendency to muddle and befuddle, to compound, to render complex what the poor reader needs reduced to the pure seasonal note of a finely reduced sauce, wherein what began as excess is reduced to mere teasing hints of possible meaning.  those references, spoken, written, smirked, thought, and printed on the occasional organic cotton tee.

why should i need a defense, as my detractors intend not to detract but to aid, smooth, glaze, and lovingly correct?  well, mostly because i am considering a return to a website fairyland full of know-it-all writers. i love them, they love me, but we will never, ever be family...

john dewey shall be my apologist, as foretold at my birth, and the announcement of his anachronistic endorsement of my efforts to creatively write will clear the cluttered path to my writing, and shoo away the nincompoops who cannot sit placidly in my messes of zen.

so here it is, my new signature "look," er, quote:

"I should venture to assert that the most pervasive fallacy of philosophic thinking goes back to neglect of context " --John Dewey

love,       

Clarice Lispector
(What? you were expecting John Dewey?)

lisa

loosa lee

profderien

monaghana

bianca castafiore

irene

eljay

© 2013 L. Ryan