The Grove's Custodian
A year ago or so, someone lent me This is the Story of a Happy Marriage by Ann Patchett (which they had, in turn, borrowed from the local library), and one of the essays — which detailed her meandering path toward authorship — struck a chord in me.
Patchett related what must be a nigh-universal experience, not only among writers, but for all humans: before she begins to write a novel, she lets the concept, the characters, the plot, flutter about her head like jewel-encrusted butterflies catching the light of the sun.
Then she snatches it from the air, splays its wings onto the open page, and sticks it dead with pins. Words clingfilm and asphyxiate the beauty of thoughts. In fact, the most beautiful prose dances carefully on the edge of thought: it paints the silhouette of the idea, without crayoning in the colours.
Now — is this all a massively overwritten way to say that I am being difficult about describing my hobbies?
Yes, absolutely. That is exactly what this is. But this would be a rubbish about me page if I gave up at that!
I'm Olive. I grow jerusalem artichokes and potatoes in my family's garden. I use typewriter and radios and bicycles, which sounds expensive but is actually cheaper than word processors, spotify, and cars. I study medicine at a nice university, and have lovely friends (who I am bad at replying to).
I would like one day to grow all — or, most of — the food I eat, and then share the excess with others. I am no Christian, but if people took the 'do unto your neighbour' thing seriously, they'd find it very hard to close their eyes on people in need. It is difficult, though, to be kind, sometimes. I would like one day to travel far away, over land, by bus — to be slow.
I appreciate when people call me 'they'. It feels nice. I love when stories focus on aching, drawn out over immeasurable periods of time. Wild Seed; A Darkling Plain; Through the Flash. I don't like the act of language creation itself, so much as I like the cultural evolution behind it.
That's all for now, folks. Bits of me are scattered about the Grove — please, go find them!
Est. 14th September 2024
