(no subject)

[butterflydreaming]

As I review my writing as a whole, I see the repetition of ideas (and sometimes, of phrasing). My concept of romantic love seems to be a slow escalation of small increments: friendship, hand holding or similar touches, a first kiss that doesn't end in sex, and so on. Seeing a little bit of my soul for display like that incites a bit of melancholy. It's all made of wish and dream.

Then there are other parts where I am able to convey something I know deep in my core. I find those moments and think, "that is truth."

Rereading and making the effort to edit/rewrite old things that no one cares about gives me confidence. I think that I always like writing (making stories) for myself the most. Sharing is sort of required, but it is not unlike cooking. Cook what will be enjoyable to eat alone; share if there are hungry mouths.

I have a lot to fit in today. I feel that I have a lot to fit in before the end of June. I don't, really, though. It's just a matter of energy level, incentive.

I'm going to try my hand at making applesauce this morning.

EDIT: This was enlightening! The signifcance of plot without conflict