Thursday, May 31, 2012
I'm also a little nervous. You create this wonderful story with characters and a world you fall into so heavily that everything is visualized in your mind. Will the reader embrace the tragedies, the love story, the relationship dynamics, the plot? Trust the author. I write 1-2 books ahead, so when I'm on the current book, I have a strong sense of where it's going, so there are reasons behind what I do.
Unlike real life, where I found myself sitting on Pinterest for way too long staring at things, but not pinning them to my wall. Then I started thinking, "Why am I looking at pictures of doors?"
Why? For the love of God, why?
I was in one of those introspective moods today, and wondering why we give up our imaginations when we grow up. Remember as a child when you played "pretend"? You were an explorer and your backyard was a dangerous and mysterious terrain, filled with treasures and enemies. You had imaginary pets, or you could shift into an animal. But somehow, that piece of childhood is vital. Why don't we continue to do that as adults? I would seriously love pretend hour at work, so I could watch my coworkers running around like loons pretending they're a fairy princess. It might actually reduce stress in the workplace.
Whether it's in writing, painting, photography, crafting of some kind, cooking - there are so many outlets that we can feed the imaginary monster. I fundamentally think that it's part of who we are. When we find remains of prehistoric man or ancient cultures, we're fascinated by their art, jewelry, or wall paintings. Not so much how many bison they killed each day and if they were able to pay the cave tax. That's not who we are, that's how we live.
Someone bought me a small canvass and oil paints. I always said I wanted to paint something, and now I have this kit just waiting for my hideous reveal to the world. I promise you, no matter how atrocious it is, I'm going to post it on this blog.