Excertos dos Diários de Virginia Woolf sobre As Ondas (cujo título do

esboço foi The Moths )

Sábado 18 Junho, 1927

Slowly ideas begin trickling in; & then suddenly I rhapsodised (the night L. dined
with the apostles) & told over the story of the Moths, which I think I will write
very quickly, perhaps in between chapters of that long impending book on
ction. Now the moths will I think ll out the skeleton which I dashed in here: the
play-poem idea: the idea of some continuous stream, not solely of human
thought, but of the ship, the night&c, all owingtogether:intersected by the
arrival of the bright moths. A man & a woman are to be sitting at a table talking.
Or shall they remain silent? It is to be a love story: she is to nally let the last
great moth in. The contrasts might be something of this sort: she might talk, or
think, about the age of the earth: the death of humanity: then moths keep on
coming. Perhaps the man could be left absolutely dim. France: near the sea; at
night; a garden under the window. But it needs ripening. I do a little work on it in
the evening when the gramophone is playing late sonatas. (The windows dget
at their fastenings as if we were at sea.)

Quarta, 7 de Novembro, 1928

Yes, but the Moths? That was to be an abstract playpoem. That was to be an
abstract mystical eyeless book….

Terça, 28 de Maio, 1929

I am not trying to tell a story. Yet perhaps it might be done in that way. A mind
thinking. They might be islands of light–islands in the stream that I am trying to
convey: life itself going on. The current of the moths ying strongly this way. A
lamp & a ower pot in the centre. The ower can always be changing. But there
must be more unity between each scene than I can nd at present.
Autobiography it might be called. How am I to make one lap, or act, between
the coming of the moths, more intense than another; if there are only scenes?
One must get the sense that this is the beginning; this the middle; that the
climax–when she opens the window & the moth comes in. I shall have the two
different currents–the moths ying along; the ower upright in the centre; a
perpetual crumbling & renewing of the plant. In its leaves she might see things
happen.

Segunda, 16 de Setembro, 1929

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 Six weeks in bed now would make a masterpiece of Moths. But that wont be
the name. Moths, I suddenly remember, dont y by day. And there cant be a
lighted candle. Altogether, the shape of the book wants considering--& with
time I could do it.

Segunda, 26 de Janeiro, 1930

The Waves wont sell more than 2000 copies. I am stuck fast in that book–I
mean, glued to it, like a y on gummed paper. Sometimes I am out of touch; but
go on; then again feel that I have at last, by violent measures–like breaking
through gorse–set my hands on something central. Perhaps I can now say
something quite straight out; & at length; & need not be casting a line to make
my book the right shape. But how to pull it all together, how to compost it –
press it into one – I do not know; nor can I guess the end–it might be a gigantic
conversation. The interludes are very dif cult, yet I think essential; so as to
bridge & also give a background–the sea; insensitive nature--I dont know. But I
think, when I feel this sudden directness, that it must be right: anyhow no other
form of ction suggests itself except as a repetition at the moment.

Quarta, 9 de Abril de 1931

What I now think (about the Waves) is that I can give it in a very few strokes the
essentials of a person’s character. It should be done boldly, almost as
caricature…. The abandonment of Orlando & Lighthouse is much checked by
the extreme dif culty of form—as it was in Jacob’s Room. I think this is the
furtherest development so far; but of course it may miss re somewhere…. It is
bound to be imperfect. But I think it possible that I have got my statues against
the sky.

Quarta, 20 de Agosto de 1930

The Waves is I think resolving itself (I am at page 100) into a series of dramatic
soliloquies. The thing is to keep them running homogeneously in & out, in the
rhythm of the waves. Can they be read consecutively? I know nothing about
that. I think this is the greatest opportunity I have yet been able to give myself;
therefore I suppose the most complete failure. Yet I respect myself for writing
this book. Yes—even though it exhibits my congenital faults.

Sábado, 20 de Dezembro de 1930

It occurred to me last night while listening to a Beethoven quartet that I would

merge all the interjected passages into Bernard’s nal speech, & end with the
words O solitude: thus making him absorb all those scenes, & having no further
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 break. This is also to show that the theme effort, effort, dominates: not the
waves: & personality: & de ance: but I am not sure of the effect artistically;
because the proportions may need the intervention of the waves nally so as to
make a conclusion.

Terça, 30 de Dezembro de 1930

What it wants is presumably unity; but it is I think rather good (I am talking to

myself over the re about The Waves). Suppose I could run all the scenes
together more?--by rhythm, chie y. So as to avoid those cuts; so as to make
the blood run like a torrent from end to end—I dont want the waste that the
breaks give; I want to avoid chapters; that indeed is my achievement, if any
here: a saturated, unchopped, completeness; changes of scene, of mood, of
person, done without spilling a drop. Mow if it cd. Be worked over with heat and
currency thats all it wants. And I am getting my blood up.

Terça, 7 de Julho de 1931

O to seek relief from this incessant correction ( Im doing the interludes) & write a
few words carelessly. Still better, to write nothing; to tramp over the downs,
blown like thistle. As irresponsible. And to get away from this hard knot in which
my brain has been so tight spun—I mean The Waves.
11. 35 Tuesday 14 July, 1931 I had meant to say that I have just nished
correcting the Hampton Court scene (This is the nal correction, please God.)

Sexta, 17 de Julho de 1931

This morning I think I may say I have nished. That is to say I have once more,
for the 18th time, copied out the opening sentences. L. will read it tomorrow; & I
shall open this book to record his verdict. My own opinion,--oh dear--, its a
dif cult book. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so strained. And I’m nervous, …
And it may be a failure. And I can’t do anymore. And I m inclined to think it good
but incoherent, inspissate; one jerk succeeding another. Anyhow it is laboured,
compact. Anyhow I had a shot at my vision & if its not a catch, its a cast in the
right direction. But I’m nervous.

Domingo, 19 de Julho de 1931

"It is a masterpiece" said L. coming out to my lodge this morning. "And the best
of your books". This note I make; adding that he also thinks the rst 100 pages
extremely dif cult, & is doubtful how far any common reader will follow. But
Lord! What a relief! I stumped off in the new rain to make a little round to Rat
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Farm in jubilation, & am almost resigned to the fact that a Goat farm, with a
house to be built, is now in process on the slope near Northease.