Mon. 26 Oct 81
Disappointed by mail – no acknowledgement by agent of MSS. Sunk in hopeless apathy, I refuse to speculate on how long it will take her to read the book. However, some good things are happening. Phyllis Chesler’s Women, Money & Power really excellent. Like all these women in the book I am just attempting to survive. The best I can do is keep an eye on commerciality. Maybe I can teach.
Toss sold his Suburban Propane during a brief market rally and got $6000. This weekend heavy socializing. The Plattens over for drinks Fri, the Weiners dinner Sat. Duke Droyer & his new wife Muffy for lunch Sun. This entailed quantities of clearing, cleaning & cooking. As a result, house in great shape. Toss a big help , thoroughly scoured the kitchen & bathrooms while yelling how dirty I am. That made me sad. Chesler is right – don’t ever get cast in the role of having more than 50 percent responsibility for housework. Never accept blame.
Women who do housework are so abused the only reason to do it is because you enjoy it or you don’t want the baby to slip in the slime. Today only empty & reload dishwasher, make bed, vacuum rug.
Spent 4 full hours on poetry only interrupted by phone calls from Toss & Dom. Received International Directory of Little Mags so mailing out droves of material. It has taken me 6 yrs to get 30 acceptances. My aim is 100, but I may get disgusted sooner. No decent relationships result. Seems like a great reason for having your own press. Now I love my Siddall poem which I almost threw away. You never know.
Need to buy nightgowns for my hospital kit but that will have to wait for tomorrow – we took the depressing tour yesterday.
At 6:30 make hamburgers, meet Toss at the train, drive to Bradley class – an important one – Adair explains Caesareans.
Sat 31 OCT 81
Met a woman named Daisy at Trinity Church yesterday – she has 3 kids, plastic surgeon husband, hopes to write for money. I showed her my poems – she has never been published. She admired them, pulled out hers – wish I hadn’t shown my poor, thin, stuff! (I am a late as opposed to early Eliot.) She is a natural poet – use of language acute, original and free. She doesn’t k now how good she is. On the other hand, her fiction is a mess – classic poet’s fiction – everything happening at once. A novel in 3 single-spaced pages! It’s a curable condition but her forte is poetry.
She’s coming for dinner (with husband) Sunday. Now I am faced with the difficulties of getting up when I don’t like being vertical.
Rewrote my Mansfield essay & shipped it off to new journal. Last night couldn’t sleep – woke Toss at 2 AM to make love to me – he was very good-natured about it.
3:20 PM Already exhausted with much left to do. Finished the ironing. Unfortunately mail brings rejection of my romance novel. They liked the writing, said the characterization “strong” but narrative “diffuse.”
3 PM Mon 2 Nov 81
Good intense work on the accounts but can’t wash the dishes till I write here.
At dinner Daisy asked me if I wanted REAL criticism of my poetry – her tone full of warning. I steeled myself & said yes. She said I don’t write about the subject I write AROUND it using words as defenses & shields.
I am particularly vulnerable to such criticisms right now. I am escapist. The uncomfortable truth is I will never be as good a poet as Daisy because I am a “literary” poet who should be writing fiction.
Toss told me afterward he likes my poems better than Daisy’s because they “get richer with every reading.” He never criticizes just to make me feel good so there must be some truth in this.
I contemplate the shocks of the past few months. Feels like all my props have been taken away. Feels almost spiritual, as if God is hammering on me. Seems like time to start building afresh. But I’m not yet ready to repudiate my dream of writing a commercial novel. I don’t need to get rich, I just need a grubstake. Do I even believe in myself? I think I don’t (it’s too hard) but I do believe in my work.
Guilders has the nerve to ask me to take classes THERE for my degree – I don’t burn that bridge – but I don’t want to. They are not emotionally supportive. They are preparing me for a world I don’t believe in. I can do better.
Starting to come to terms with the deep scars inflicted on me by my parents – I just wasn’t what they had in mind! Feel like I’m on my way to a workable life. Feeling my way. I want to be known.
Spend my class time at Marycliff (Dr Jones’ college) trying to get closer to God. It’s a feminine voice that is speaking to me.
3 Nov 81
Discouraging letter from agent. She has sent Pinch out first time, still sending around Wolves & Blood. I need to get some hope going but nothing’s there. This is a life of slow starvation.
Avril calls to say she & Karl are engaged! Will announce after his divorce (January) then marry in July.
Read 2 murder mysteries with fantastic openings & disappointing endings.
4 Nov 81
Pray have baby before Thanksgiving. Letter from agent saying my romance “very good of its kind.’ The SMALLEST encouragement helps but I needed it a month ago. Seems impossible to ever write another romance now. If my original editor hadn’t been fired, how different my career might be now?
Definite steps forward getting ready for Baby. Bought baby lotion, oil, talc, etc, made and froze 4 little meatloaves. Finished accts, cleaned the kitchen, read Agatha, brooding over what makes a good mystery.
Tomorrow sew, iron, clean study (soon to be baby’s room).Snap out of my stupor & fetch Toss from train.
10:45 PM Thurs 5 Nov 81
Always wonder how close I am to THE BIRTH, as I write the date. Don’t pick T up at train for one hour; can I stay awake? I finished cleaning kitchen, freezing two lasagnas; not in the mood for all the virtuous things I MIGHT be doing. Painted my toenails over my vast belly for what I hope is LAST TIME.
A little ironing this AM before time to rush off to Women’s Group.
Rather terrified to face Daisy! I very unwillingly discover I do have a rather large fund of self-contempt. Makes me sad, I don’t like admitting I’m so cruel to myself. I thought my parents were full of contempt for me and “transferred it.” Every time I exposed my aspirations they made me burn with shame. Feel Daisy has “exposed” me as a “non-poet.” Pregnancy causes loss of identity and her strong personality moves in.
Excellent Women’s Group with a beautiful communion which I think Daisy – lapsed Catholic – really enjoyed. Woman who contracted cerebral palsy from a riding accident in midlife (and then her husband dumped her!) wrote book & spoke about it.
Afterwards lunch with Fran Drevers & Daisy. Why be in such a rush? Everyone asks me. Have to get it done before my nervous breakdown! Pity my family took no interest in my writing. My role was “needy”. They threw money & food at us and fled.
Writing requires an extensive underground existence. Probably neither romance nor mystery will be accepted. (Fatalism, let’s blame that.) And I will have to start over as I’ve done oh so many times.
Children will be different! Look forward to this labor as a watershed.
Alysse Aallyn 
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