Decided it was time to start editing the goddamn novel that I’ve been writing on and off for the past year. Haven’t really touched it since the end of August, and I’m not sure why today is the day, but I felt a weird rush of adrenaline. I’m not sure if it was out of fear or excitement. But after trying to pretend that the several mugs of decaf coffee that I drank this evening were caffeinated, I think that I have ~15 pages of a first chapter that aren’t hideously embarrassing. I have a feeling that it will take a third swipe to clunk everything into place.
I’m not quite sure what I’ll do with it once it’s finished. Jump up and down? Force my friends to read it? Blindly send it to a publisher? I guess I’ll find out if it ever happens.
Whoever is reading this, if anyone is reading this, is probably going, Jane you dumbass, you just started to make money painting. Why are you working on a novel? I don’t know, hypothetical meanieface, though this feels very similar to painting. You lay down colors and shapes—the underpainting (spit out gobs of words), let it dry a bit, go over it again until it looks like something on the verge of being finished (edit the previous gobs of words into something that makes sense), let it dry a bit again, and then put in the details (fine-tuning editing) that make you, as the painter/writer, go At what point did this get finished?
Do any of you all feel like you have to switch-up creative projects (change mediums) as a sort of crop rotation kind of deal? Work really hard on one thing while another field lays fallow, until the current field’s nutrients have been sucked dry and the other field, the one you’d been purposely ignoring, is suddenly capable of supporting life?
A) I’ve been making ends meet through art, which is simultaneously really cool and terrifying. I’m creating, but relying on myself to create. B) I read a book today that made me feel like water lazily circling down a drain. C) I think I might be a workaholic (feel badly if I don’t paint every day) D) I think I’m an extreme introvert who gives off the appearance of an extrovert E) I might be happy.