My youth spent in the theater sometimes shines through my literary pretensions. One of those is times is when I try to explain what creation feels like to people or why I’m addicted to the process of creation.
And that’s what I got. I’m always trying to finish the hat. And sometimes, trying to finish the hat means that I’m not really in the moment. I’m looking at the moment, I’m studying faces and body language and tasting the tension in the air.
It’s not just a writer thing, I did this as an actor too, maybe more. Studying the play of muscles along the shoulders of a woman who doesn’t want to be hit on or the casual affection of two teenagers on a date.
Everything is part of the creation process and I need to log it, and then I need to use it. So I walk home, muttering under my breath, trying dialogue out loud.
Then I pull out a scene or story and I let it all out. I don’t dishes or fold the laundry, but I’ve perfected that scene that’s been bugging me, I finished the hat.
And sometimes, finishing the hat sucks. When dinner’s burnt and kids are fighting and the cats throw up at my feet, but I’m still lost in the world of the hat… that’s when having to finish the hat causes problems.
I try not to let the hat get in the way. It doesn’t always work though.
Yeah, I’m still working on that last draft. Hoping to be done with it by tomorrow night.