… it’s anatomically impossible and yet completely descriptive.
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the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing…
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I’m realizing how much of my life is driven by my need for a good story.
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It’s a big deal that I finished a book. It’s edited, proofread, submitted, and on its way. I feel like I’m doing what Seth Godin preaches—shipping my creative work. I spent most of 2021 writing, and this is the first evidence that I have to share of it. I’m so proud of this little beauty and can’t wait to share Tate and Audrey’s story with you.
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I’ve dealt with this tension before, and every writer knows it. Hemingway summed it up as “write drunk, edit sober.”
But I’ve finally come to appreciate that I can’t do both at once. Even if I’m tempted to. And all I need to do is designate which mode I’m in. They’re both valid.
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… maybe my true inner voice is J. Peterman, just no one hears it
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I hope that by reading something I write you will in fact feel heard—an interesting phenomenon.
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…using new to me ink feels a bit like I’m being utterly wild. Throwing around rainbows and wearing a pink feathered boa and goldenrod-framed reading glasses instead of black RayBans.
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If I keep writing, the stories will come and be finished. They are getting further and further along, and I can see the progress.
But you can’t.
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I truly believe art/creative projects need to exist and just be allowed to exist. Without criticism. Although that’s not quite what I believe, because critiquing the story I just posted will undoubtedly make it better.
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