I've been thinking today about a new idea I've had for a novel. Since I finished Citizen Kate, I find myself without a writing project to sink my teeth into, and I want to start, since work has been slow this week and I have the time. My problem, though, is that I have two plots featuring the same character and I didn't know which to pick.

I knew I wanted the book to be about a girl who loves to read, because I'd love to write a novel exploring my own love for reading, paying tribute to some of the books that have most shaped me. I took my character's name from my blog, Constance Reader. I have the idea of a big-hearted, imaginative, quirky girl who does things like wear kneesocks and listen to Juliette Greco on her hi-fi. Her apartment is a one-room studio with bookshelves taking up all the wall space. She lives in DC and works at either a library or a bookstore, and here is the final storyline I've come up with for her.

• One: Connie needs a date for her best friend's wedding. She makes a list of her top five romantic heroes from literature, and they are: Mr. Rochester, Mr. Darcy, Rhett Butler, Holden Caufield and I haven't decided on the fifth yet. Her all-time favorite is Gilbert Blythe (natch) but she doesn't include him on the list because she thinks he's too good to exist. Anyway, Connie sets about trying to find a guy who fits the profile of each hero. Then she'll date him, and see which one ends up being the guy for her, the guy she will bring to Alice's wedding. Of course, in the end, it ends up being Hugh, her longtime friend, whom she falls for in a most Gilbert-Blythian way.

• Two: Constance Reader is an aloof girl, something of a loner, who works in a library or bookstore (again) and has no friends, except for the ones she finds in books. One day, she finds on the shelves a handwritten manuscript that features a girl with her name as the main character, and the girl's story seems to be the story of her own life. Things start happening to Connie just as they've been written. Only the book stops before the ending, and so Connie sets out to find the author, and on the way she finds new friends and a chance for new love. But will she have the courage to write the ending to her own story?

At this point, I've written a few scenes that I like for the first, but overall, I don't think there's enough dramatic tension to sustain that premise for 300 pages. I think the second premise would be more successful, but I also think it will be more complicated and ambitious to write. The loneliness aspect could veer into dark territory if not handled correctly; the magical realism element will seem stupid if I don't think of a killer, and plausible, reason for it; and since I've planned scenes where authors and characters from literature interact with Connie as though they're friends, I worry that could make her seem psycho, if also not handled with finesse. Do I have it in me to make it work? I don't kid myself about my writing: I know I'm funny, and I know I can write authentic dialogue, but I'm fairly clumsy and I lack subtlty, which is probably why I chose to write in a genre that mostly eschews it. Sarah Waters I am not, probably because I lack the confidence for it. Although I have to say since the second agent wanted to see my MS I've been feeling better about that. One agent might be a fluke, but (even if nothing comes of this) two means that I am definitely on to something, right?

Speaking of reading and books, I am totally addicted to the Stieg Larsson trilogy and while planning my review I noticed that over at Constance Reader, I almost never review books by men. ??? I think before this, the last book by a man that I read was...The Inner Circle by T.C. Boyle, and that was back in the second week in May. It may not seem so long ago, but since I read about 3-4 books a week (if not more) it really is. And before the Boyle, the last male-authored book I read was My Man Jeeves by PG Wodehouse, back in March. This is slightly depressing to me, because I want my blog to be well-rounded. I want to be well-rounded. Although a part of me is slightly proud. I never planned to only, or mostly, read books by women; it just worked out that way. And I feel like I'm standing in solidarity with my SISTERS because of it. Women's fiction gets such a bad rap for being...well, all about women, for women, silly, insipid. It's harder to be a female writer than a male writer, and have your books appeal across the sexes. So I like to think of my current blog policy as a little affirmative action, though I am going to have to try and read some more dudes, I guess.

I had such a busy day today! First, an early morning visit with my doctor. I took the 16 Bus from my doorstep to the Pentagon Metro; rode to Foggy Bottom, and got off; and then walked three blocks to M Street. It was about 100 degrees in the city today and by the time I got there, my shoulders and back were shiny and tight with the beginnings of a sunburn, even given the fact that I put sunscreen on this morning before I left the house!

After my appointment I walked back, and rode home, and worked for three hours on my assignment from the Association of Diplomatic Studies and Training. I'm transcribing and researching the oral history of a man named Wallace Mgoqi, who was instrumental in ending apartheid in South Africa. ADST doesn't pay as well as some of my other clients, but it's worth it because of how much I learn while working.

At three I got back on the bus--this time the ART 75--and rode to Ballston Metro, and rode to Court House to meet up with Jenn for sushi and to exchange books we'd loaned each other over a year ago! I haven't seen her since she and Patrick broke up, but I so much enjoyed seeing her today. I like Jenn; I like her positive outlook; I like how we share so much of the same experiences. She is one person I feel comfortable talking about my anxiety with, and I feel sure she isn't judging me for it. Also, she's just damned fun. The weather changed on my way to North Arlington, and when I got to Court House plaza I sat for a while and drank iced coffee in the courtyard, reading The Girl Who Played with Fire. It was threatening rain and the wind was kicking up, and it was nice to have some relief from the heat of the day.

I came home (another Metro ride! Another bus ride!) and cleaned my house, and then did a few more hours of typing, and then ate a late dinner, and now I'm writing this. Basically, what I'm trying to point out, is that today was a perfectly ordinary, enjoyable day--ordinary for anyone. Not just ordinary or enjoyable by the standards of my anxiety disease. There were so many times when I thought this kind of day would never come round again for me, and now it has, and does, with increasing frequency. It feels good. And I feel so independent and empowered.

I had a lot of time to think as I was jaunting here and there today, and here are some things I came up with:

• It's funny, but I don't miss my old neighborhood, Court House. It's the "happening" part of Arlington, but I think it kind of sucks. Yeah, it was nice to have the Metro at my door, and to be able to walk to a host of different places for eating/drinking/entertainment. But at the same time, parking sucked. I had to walk about six blocks from my car to my apartment with my arms laden with bags, every time I went to the grocery store. And it was loud, and full of frat boys. And there was no diversity. Today I don't think I saw one person of color after I passed Virginia Square. I love my new neighborhood. I like its unpolished edges. I like that my in my building alone we have native Arabic-speakers, Spanish-speakers, people who speak Amharic and Korean (and a couple who communicate in American sign language!) I like smelling kimchi and garlic and berbere as I walk up the stairs to my flat (which might lack granite countertops and a modern, open floorplan, but is high on prewar charm in a way glass-and-chrome high rises can never be). I like that families with kids live here. A little boy that lives upstairs and I make horrible faces at each other whenever we see each other. I like that Columbia Pike is one of the oldest neighborhoods in the country--without being all hoity-toity about it. It feels more like real life than slick, prepackaged North Arlington.

• When I was with Jenn tonight, I realized how often in my life I spend time with people I don't really...well, for lack of better word, like. Or maybe that's not entirely right. People with whom I don't feel that kindred bond. I lost a lot of friends when I got sick, and so I've been sort of clinging to the people who stayed, or the people that cropped up after the fact, you know? A lot of them, I wouldn't necessarily see if I had a wider group from which to choose. But I'm learning now that it's not the quantity of friends you have--it's the quality of friends you keep that matters. And that I'd much rather have three or four or five really good friends than a large group of people who don't care about me, who, while I am answering a question they asked, turn and start a conversation with each other. Or, God forbid, text. People like Jenn, and my little Lillie-pie, TJ and Tara and PR, and my wonderful long distance friends, Adrienne and Louise and David, these are people I need more of. These are the friends I want to keep.

• Despite the fact that I was able to ride the bus and metro multiple times today without panicking, the biggest triumph I feel today is something over which I have absolutely no control at all. A few months ago, after I told my gynecologist that J&I would like to try for a baby within a couple of years, she asked me to start charting my body basal temperature, to get a clear idea of my monthly cycle (something I had never done before. I had no idea how long my cycle was, or anything like that). You would think just taking your temperature first thing every morning would be easy, right? NO. There are so many little factors that crop up. You have to take it the same time every day. If you sleep without blankets that affects everything. If you sleep erratically, or less than the night before, your temperature can be off by a full degree. If you eat spicy food, or exercise. The placement of the thermometer in your mouth. My chart was a pure mess, spikes here and there, and I eventually convinced myself that I wasn't ovulating, that I had something horrible like PCOS or some infertility issue that would be a problem for me. I actually have been worried sick over it. Well, today, ladies and gents, I am happy to report that I (am pretty sure I) OVULATED! It's amazing how proud I feel of my body for managing this feat. By the time we're ready to have a kid, I just might actually have gotten the hang of this charting business.

I hope tomorrow brings lower temperatures and some work from the Brits. :) My mother-in-law invited us over tomorrow night to watch the fireflies in her yard, and I think I'm going to bring my guitar so we can have a singalong.

Goodnight, everyone! Happy midsummer night dreams.

Oh my GOSH, today is turning out to be an amazing day for me professionally. A new client AND now another agent wants to read the first 3 chapters of my novel!

Here is the letter that I got today:

Dear Catherine,

Thank you for your letter regarding your novel, Citizen Kate. Because of the high volume of submissions received, PMA is quite selective about which projects we decide to review.

Oh no, I'm thinking. Another rejection. 

However, in this case, we would like to take a look at your work.

Woo hoo!
Please send a 30-40 page sample of your book to us at your earliest convenience, along with a self-addressed, stamped envelope for our reply. You should also enclose a brief, one page synopsis and author biography, and a self-addressed, stamped return envelope or box for all materials that you wish to have returned. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to write, email or call. We look forward to reading your work.
Sincerely, 
AGENT!
Even if nothing comes from this, at least I can tell myself that my writing was sound enough to get noticed by professionals. And that feels pretty good. 

I got my first freelance client today! I'm going to be doing transcription for a British company, and they're going to pay me in pounds sterling, and for the first time I am happy about the crappy standing of the US dollar, because with the exchange rate, 85 pence a minute really works out to be something like $1.25 a minute, and that's way better than American companies would pay me for the same amount of work. Now I just hope that I can do a really good job and knock their socks off, so that more good things will follow.

I was telling a friend of mine about the job and she did utter that phrase I was so afraid of, "But you aren't going to use your law degree?" And at first I got kind of defensive, but then I got kind of mad. Not at her, per se, but more at the world. Why is education necessarily seen as a stepping stone to a career? Why is learning not enough, for its own sake? Shouldn't the fact that I just wanted to learn be validation in itself for getting a degree? It's not like that in our society. What you know seems to only matter in what you can get out of it, financially, and I hate that.

And I think that the Almighty Dollar (and society's belief that it trumps all in this world) keeps people from pursuing the things in life that they might, otherwise. For example: I have an aunt who loves Elizabethan art and literature. But when it came time for her to declare her major in college, she majored in Management, because she thought she would never get a job with a BA in Literature. Now she's a telemarketer, and she hates it. Then there's my first college roommate, who I'd known since high school, who always wanted to major in Archaeology. But the same thing happened to her, and she did her degree in Information Systems, instead (What does that even mean?) She intended to get her minor in Anthropology, but she ended up not having the time, and let it slide. So her entire professional career, and almost the whole of her academic experience, was based around not what she really wanted to study, but something she only did because she needed to get a job when she graduated.

When I am trying to shock people (my mother), I tell them that I am a Socialist. And that's true to a certain extent: I do believe there are industries that are best maintained by the government, and so does the US, and so has the US since its inception. The military, for instance--I don't think anybody wants private markets writing off the lives of young men and women, as a sunk cost in oil retrieval operations. But on the other hand, I like things about capitalism. I like the free flow of information and ideas and goods and services. There is, though, the fact that the end goal in capitalism is for the most amount of money to be made in the shortest amount of time. And that single-minded mission is somewhat problematic for me.

Because in order for that to happen, exploitation has to happen in some form. I don't see it so much as a political statement as an economic fact. Take the example of a sugar plantation. ACME Sugar, Inc, wants to make the most amount of money in the shortest time period so they ignore procedure for maintaining the productivity of the land for a long time period, and they plant plant plant until the land is too depleted to use for sugar-farming anymore. Then they sell it to a mining company, and use the proceeds to buy more fertile land, elsewhere in the world. The land was exploited for capital gains.

I don't think people should be exploited for capital gains in the same way. I think people should have the ability to pursue things in life they want. You should be able to study Archaeology, and still get a job. In order to do this, the focus of education has to be not on the end goal of job-getting, but a middle ground. College should prepare you realistically to get a job while allowing you to learn about things you want to learn about. You should be able to major in Archaeology, but at the same time, to take classes in practical skills like data entry, grant writing, computer programming, graphic design. Education should be a two-pronged approach, but from a purely capitalistic approach, that isn't efficient, to expend time, money, and effort on something you won't use to make more money. And capitalism is all about efficiency. The inefficient course of action falls by the wayside. The thing is, though, you aren't just asking someone to give up lower earning potential when they choose Business over Art. You're asking them to give up on a dream. And if you don't give up on the dream, if you study what you want and you don't use it? Then the word people use to talk about your education is "waste." It doesn't matter if you have enriched your personal or spiritual understanding of the world. Those things are what captains of industry call "intangibles." They don't matter.

And I feel like this mindset has such negative implications about self-worth. It's like saying that you, you the person, don't matter as much as you the earner. You the employee. You're not what you know so much as what you MAKE. I hate that. I want to live in a world where learning is celebrated for its own sake, I guess, is what I'm saying. The Quakers have always been about this: women were educated in the 1600s, even though they would never have the ability to practice law or medicine or things like that. Education was its own end, not the means to an end. Is it a "waste" to educate women in Muslim countries that have Shariah law, because they will never be able to work outside the home? I don't think so. I really don't. "Knowledge is power"--that's a cliche, but I believe it. When you know about a thing, you have power over it. It can't hurt you anymore.

I want to live in a world where a desire to know about the law, and they way it's made, and the way it informs almost everything we do is enough of a validation to get a JD--even if you don't ever plan to make those laws, yourself. And I am "using" my law degree, dang it! I use it every single day. I use it when I send a contract to a client. I use it when I decide where to buy groceries, or gas. I use it when I wake up every morning. I use it every time I open my eyes.

"The problem with living in a capitalist system is that it becomes the driving force behind EVERYTHING, to the point where, if you step back and look around, actual happiness and enlightment have fallen by the wayside." [says my brilliant husband]

Is this true? And if so: is it fixable?