I had to look it up to be sure. People toss that expression around carelessly. Words matter.
So I can say with confidence that I am allowing grace for this piece, my writing. and myself. Stop judging this piece which is so far from done.
It's for me to stop sulking because my work doesn't know where it's going or what it will be. Yet. Accepting that this is how I work and trying to change that now is a mistake.
Drawings and plans for stitched pieces always die on the page. A few notebooks are full of the corpses of things that never inspired me enough to create them in cloth.
Outlining a book has proven to be a steel cage. I sketched the first one: two parallel lines that crossed, curved back, crossed again, then fell into a spiraling widening helix.
The next book isn't even ready for a sketch yet. The big picture, as yet unrevealed by the details that I have been accumulating. Notes, paragraphs, scenes - lots of them.
Details like this.
or,
"She hates himself," Bea told Tam.
"Sad. sad, but true. We all have little a both in us." She grinned into her hand and laughed. "One of Murph's buddies told him I was too mannish. Murph punched his lights out. Men who talk like that are 'fraid of women. What do you make of Teddy down at the flower shop?"
"He's got a lot of girl in him?"
"So you understand. It's not easy being different like that."
Annabea was learning hard lessons about being different every day in school."But Lady G is different. Like she's two people at once and boy is she hard on that other guy."
"Hush now and learn this. Ain't nothing more private than how people think about themselves."
The details will gather. I will make order, sense, and purpose and the story will reveal itself. I need to not be in such a damn hurry.
