thoughts after reading

I'm almost finishing with Virginia Woolf's A writer's diary and I'm in the middle of Madame Bovary and starting with James Joyce's Dubliners. I remember Mrs Truman, a teacher I really detested for humiliating me in class once said that Dubliners is one of her favorite books. Dubliners is really quite fantastic. I still think that excellent writing is sincere and reading it is like getting in touch with a very deep spring between two people--the writer and the reader.

I'm always amazed by such good writing that I forget I'm reading the words consciously composed. I feel like I have immersed inside a dream. I need to work on my sentences so that awkward strucutres that remind readers of me must be gotten rid of completely. Will I ever get good at this? I wonder.

Amazed, amazed and so impressed by Virginia Woolf for her discipline and hardwork, she rewrote again and again. Sometimes I feel such boredom looking at my old stuff, just think they aren't very good and sometimes intolerably bad. I need that discipline. Rewriting is definitely the hardest part.