Musing # 15: Muse Musing

The blogging muse has deserted me—assuming I ever had the pleasure of her company. For the last couple of days I have been trying to write this blog entry. I’ve typed out several drafts, and I’ve deleted them all as too ponderous or stodgy. I’ve bogged down in all of my writing attempts. No, I haven’t bogged down…I’ve “blogged down.”

Part of my difficulty with blogging is that I am also trying to write two other pieces. I have to write a review of Neil McDaniel’s A Field Guide to Sea Stars of the Pacific Northwest, and I am also trying to write a paper about Edmund Gosse and Virginia Woolf for the 22nd Annual Conference on Virginia Woolf to be held in Saskatoon next June. It strikes me that such a paper, could I create it, might be used to call academic attention to Fathers: A Literary Anthology.

To prepare the paper, I am looking for traces of Gosse in Virginia’s diaries and letters. Skimming through her writing is a delightful. Her writing is like sunlight on water–bright glints and golden glimmers bounce off in all directions. On March 8th, 1927, writing to Vita Sackville West, she reports, “Gosse still says, only two weeks ago, ‘ Ah Mrs Woolf! doesn’t respect her father’”; on April 7th, 1931, she writes to Ethel Smyth, “(I’m writing with the only pen, a gold one, slippery and false and fickle as Edmund Gosse–)”; and, on October 22nd, 1940, in her diary, she jots, “I thought biography is like the rim of sea anemones left around the shore in Gosse’s Father and Son.

Trying to synthesize all these diverse, vivid impressions is like trying to blog when “blogged down.” Even so—muse or no muse—this blog is now done, so the task is doable. Time to go look at Blogging Woolf, to see if I can get further ideas

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