The temperature never made it past twenty degrees on Sunday. With my backyard now an ice biome, the ground has become more powder than bog. I hope it’ll survive another day. Both my HB model and my M-12 are ecstatic.
I’ve been looking forward to freelensing in the snow since April of last year, when I began detaching my lens full-time. So, when the first snow arrived on Saturday, I flitted outside like a Junco and turned my beak to the sky.
I’ll do more photo editing when I’m not drowning in a book revision, clawing my way through ten trees of paper. I’m 2/3 of the way there and I still can’t see the glow of that metaphorical beacon.
Wherever the tunnel ends, I hope there’s cake.
This revision has given me a whole new perspective on what it’s going to take to fulfill this author dream of mine. My HB model has no doubt reached the same epiphany as a third-party observer.
Suck it up, Buttercup.
On my weaker days, I whine and cling to a teddy bear called Apprehension. Because even on my heroic days, everything is still a soggy, jelly-filled what if? It’s hard not to ask, as I cut note cards into strips at one in the morning,
If nothing ever comes of this, would that mean I wasted my time?
But then a Jon Hopkins song will come on my Air Pandora and I will remember–I will feel–why I’m doing this. It’s more than just the hope of seeing my book on a shelf, or telling my character’s story, or introducing a new world.
It’s just, plain and simple, who I am.
Like an ice biome, a revision is an uncharted world with a very poor map. It’s quiet and loud. It’s black and white. The only way out is to trek across the tundra and find a better way to scale the mountain.
Sorry, Apprehensive bear, you’re going to have to stay inside the igloo.
Event Log 1122016: My boots are soaked, and my hands are numb. But tomorrow I’ll remember my gloves, and I’ll have the hearth going when I return…and maybe a fresh pot of coffee.
Time for me to get back to work.