Hi, I'm back, after some computer problems and now a nasty cold (that is fortunately not keeping me down). I've been working on a new story. I'm mostly mapping out conversations and emotions, ignoring descriptions and inconsistent world building in favor of get-the-idea-down-quick!
It has been several years since I've been so excited about a project. I'd run out of ideas so I got caught up trying to fix an old story, making everything perfect and bleeding the life out of the poor thing. I was trying to gloss over the less pretty pieces of my life, too. All the bits I couldn't fix.
The thing is, you can't make good art if you're lying to yourself. It doesn't work. Art comes from dredging your emotions, even the ones you don't want to feel -especially the ones you don't want to feel. Once you start hiding, all that fire just... it damps down. You're left writing is meaningless gloss, so you polish you adjectives and hope all that gloss shines.
I already knew that, but sometimes I forget. So now I am writing about a loveable coward, wincing at my own cowardice, and wishing I didn't relate quite so well.
Life is good.