Writing, again, at last!
Oct. 26th, 2011 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
butterflydreamingI think I might know where a big part of the snagging is happening. I have been self-editing. I'm too aware of my tendency for long, complex compound sentences that runs in shades of purple. However, purplish is the way Jewel speaks. Clipping her is a mistake; she's the one telling the story.
Ciel doesn't speak at length, but he thinks a lot. He keeps his thoughts to himself, is used to self-censorship. As a kid, being quiet helped make him less conspicuous to the bullies. He and Nox were getting an education not typical for their environment. They could talk to each other; they were isolated from everyone else and bound to each other in friendship because of it.
But Jewel is made out of all the unspoken poetry, all the longing and dreaming that Ciel has kept stuffed down inside himself. She is made of love and hope and beautiful things, all the best parts of him. And she is quiet, but thinks a lot.
So, of course when she tells the story, she tells it with dreamy hope and loving descriptions of the world(s). I need to let her speak freely.
Only another 250-300 words today. Not much, but much better than the goose eggs over the last month. It was as if I balked after missing the deadline. Better not to think about deadlines at all. Writing hurts my hands and wrists, but it is still enjoyable. Pleasurable, even.
Ciel doesn't speak at length, but he thinks a lot. He keeps his thoughts to himself, is used to self-censorship. As a kid, being quiet helped make him less conspicuous to the bullies. He and Nox were getting an education not typical for their environment. They could talk to each other; they were isolated from everyone else and bound to each other in friendship because of it.
But Jewel is made out of all the unspoken poetry, all the longing and dreaming that Ciel has kept stuffed down inside himself. She is made of love and hope and beautiful things, all the best parts of him. And she is quiet, but thinks a lot.
So, of course when she tells the story, she tells it with dreamy hope and loving descriptions of the world(s). I need to let her speak freely.
Only another 250-300 words today. Not much, but much better than the goose eggs over the last month. It was as if I balked after missing the deadline. Better not to think about deadlines at all. Writing hurts my hands and wrists, but it is still enjoyable. Pleasurable, even.