Good early morning, dear friends...
At a loss for answers, I stayed up last night reworking a short story I've been writing since October. Thinking about how Julia Cameron writes that you can't worry about writing something good right away, that early "crap" can end up being fertilizer for future "gold" (I'm paraphrasing here). The story takes place on Halloween. The charactrs are a "damaged" woman who doesn't make commitments and a man of faith who was also traumatized years ago. They encounter a girl. I don't quite know how I came to some of it. I know it has sort of been a venue for the struggle between the misanthropic, skeptical (can't find the word I'm looking for, but something that's the antithesis to faithful, as in despairing or antagonizing,... I tell you, my brain really has lost some cells over the past 6 years, it begins with an "A" I think, or a "Pa," but maybe not, paranoid, pathetic, nope, can't think of it. Someone who not only doesn't believe, but is somehow really immoral because of it...)well, that side of me and the part of me, which harbors a childlike longing to be saved by some sign of irrefutable goodness, something I can latch my heart onto, be comforted and reassured by. Well, anyway, I've got a draft of a weird story to show for it. If nothing else, I guess the writing provides a space for my "demons." This space seems to have such potential for holding our creative dreams (or sometimes nightmares?) and fostering cross-fertilization (to continue with the metaphor), so thought I'd just mention what I've been doing with my "stolen" moments. Wish me luck getting through this day on little to no sleep! - a
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment