I started a new story a few weeks ago. I’m waist deep in roughs and writing, and it’s coming along. It wants to exist, so who am I to stand in the way? Come on little story! let’s find you a nice place to live!
I’ve been afraid of this story for a while. The idea came to me in 2018 when the family moved back to Ottawa. Maybe a little before then, when I was here alone for a few months. But the little voices kept tearing it down. It’s amazing how convincing those little voices can be. They don’t even exist! How do they have so much control over my creative output? “It’s too long,” they said. “You can’t write,” they said. “Nobody will read it,” they said. Miserable little voices pissing on everything.
So the little voices are getting a sound beating behind the barn, an oily rag stuffed in their blathering yapper, stuffed into an old gym bag and dropped over a bridge. Metaphorically. Because they don’t exist. That’s a violent mix of visuals. It might be time for a nap.
If there’s a lesson here, it’s that you gotta make what you gotta make. That’s all there is.
Also this week, the kids went back to school. Cracker Jack started high school! I can’t be certain but I think I live in a time anomaly, because I’m fairly positive she was just born yesterday. I mean, she was just a wee baby on my arm, and now she’s a mostly grown person doing mostly grown person things and it’s all just too wild for me to think about.
Lastly, I’m currently diving into Cable Ties. I didn’t know they existed until a few days ago. What else don’t I know about?! They’re brilliant!