Virginia Woolf’s diary, 1931

I have this moment, while having my bath, conceived an entire new book*—a sequel to A Room of One’s Own—about the sexual life of women: to be called Professions for…

I think I am about to finish The Waves. I think I might finish it on Saturday. This is merely an author’s note: never have I screwed my brain so tight over a book.…

A day ruined, for us both. L. has to go every morning at 10:15 to the Courts, where his jury is still called, but respited always till 10:15 the next day; and this…

Here in the few minutes that remain, I must record, heaven be praised, the end of The Waves. I wrote the words O Death fifteen minutes ago, having reeled across the…

Arnold Bennett died last night; which leaves me sadder than I should have supposed. A lovable genuine man; impeded, somehow a little awkward in life; well meaning;…

O to seek relief from this incessant correction (I am doing the interludes) and write a few words carelessly. Still better, to write nothing; to tramp over the…

It is now twelve o’clock on the morning of July 14th—and Bob* has come in to ask me to sign a paper to get Palmer a pension. Bob says . . . mostly about his new…

Yes, this morning I think I may say I have finished. That is to say I have once more, for the 18th time, copied out the opening sentences. L. will read it tomorrow;…

“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 first 100 pages…

I have now—10:45—read the first chapter of The Waves, and made no changes, save 2 words and 3 commas. Yes, anyhow this is exact and to the point. I like it. And see…

I am in rather a flutter—proof reading. I can only read a few pages at a time. So it was when I wrote it and Heaven knows what virtue it has, this ecstatic book.

I should really apologise to this book for using it as I am doing to write off my aimlessness; that is I am doing my proofs—the last chapter this morning—and find…

Well now, it being just after 12:30, I have put the last corrections in The Waves; done my proofs; and they shall go tomorrow—never, never to be looked at again by…

And Miss Holtby says “It is a poem, more completely than any of your other books, of course. It is most rarely subtle. It has seen more deeply into the human heart,…

Really, this unintelligible book is being better “received” than any of them. A note in The Times proper—the first time this has been allowed me. And it sells— how…

More notes on The Waves. The sales, these past three days, have fallen to 50 or so: after the great flare up when we sold 500 in one day, the brushwood has died…

Here I will give myself the pleasure—shall I?—of copying a sentence or two from Morgan’s unsolicited letter on The Waves:— “I expect I shall write to you again when…