Late last night I finished reading a scene that went on for three pages before I realized I was reading a love scene. When it was over, I clapped the book shut in despair. That's how I should have written it. Damn, it was delicious and she never even took off her boots.
Yesterday's post all full of bluster about what would go on today? Such hubris to have written it. The piece I wanted to work with is much larger than any of the canvases I have on hand. I need to go back to Goodwill to score something large enough to carry it.
On a side note, I went there for the first time in a year. Scored a Ralph Lauren flat sheet that will become the first tablemopper of the new dye season when the sun finally graces these parts.
Instead, I spent a little time prepping this one. It needed a piece of light batting to keep the finished piece off the canvas. Give it a little dimensionality. That was cut, fit, and stitched into place in no time.
Know your tools.
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