Discourse Says, 'you Are.' Rhetoric

'you Spin In The Sky, The World Spins Under You, And You Step From Land To Land, While We . . .' She Turned Her Head Right, Left, And Her Black Hair Curled And Uncurled On The Shoulder Of Her Coat. 'we Have Our Dull, Circled Lives, Bound In Gravity, Worshiping You!'

Fiction -- At Least For Me -- Requires Long, Relatively Uninterrupted Time Stretches In Which To Bring It To Fruition. I've Never Been A Two-hour-in-the-morning Writer, Who Could Put In Another Six Hours On Sunday Afternoon. For Me, A Novel Requires Weeks Of Living In A Largely Mental And Wholly Internal Landscape. Everything Else Has To Be Relegated To The Odd Hour Here, The Bit Of Time There. Sadly, However, Uninterrupted Time Blocks Are Not What Life Doles Out Today To Any Of Us With Regularity.

Good Writing Is Clear. Talented Writing Is Energetic. Good Writing Avoids Errors. Talented Writing Makes Things Happen In The Reader's Mind - -vividly, Forcefully.

There Is No Articulate Resonance. The Common Problem, I Suppose, Is To Have More To Say Than Vocabulary And Syntax Can Bear. That Is Why I Am Hunting In These Desiccated Streets. The Smoke Hides The Sky's Variety, Stains Consciousness, Covers The Holocaust With Something Safe And Insubstantial. It Protects From Greater Flame. It Indicates Fire, But Obscures The Source. This Is Not A Useful City. Very Little Here Approaches Any Eidolon Of The Beautiful.

Sometimes You Want To Say Things, And You're Missing An Idea To Make Them With, And Missing A Word To Make The Idea With. In The Beginning Was The Word. That's How Somebody Tried To Explain It Once. Until Something Is Named, It Doesn't Exist.