oh, a lot of self-analysis, but also a pretty picture ~

i found the image below while browsing around and though i cannot hope to reproduce it, i want to try to draw something like it for my Prologue (capital P because it's all official or whatnot). The first words on the page will be the strangely ominous assertion: "We are not damned".

the more i poke this thing in the soft pads of its feet, the more i realize it's about me in weird ways and perhaps that's one of the things holding me back: a real lack of honest detachment. because it's about my own personal struggle with faith as much as anything else. which i think is typical for many writers. it's just less obvious to some ~ and certainly less obviously an obstacle. lastremnant once accused me of never talking about me because all i ever talk about is my writing and my projects. well, welcome to my self-identity (which i fully acknowledge is not entirely a healthy thing, but we all survive in our own ways).



so i readily confess that i am mostly flying by the seat of my pants on this project right now, but i feel my constant caution continues to stand in the way of progress and that i need to take chances. i know i give over to frustration entirely too easy and then i nitpick myself to death and scatter the bits as far as the eye can see. it's no wonder it's always so difficult to recover from such harsh self-treatment. bachsoprano reminded me about trust in undertaking creative journeys and that's critical to me. you have trust your instincts even when you feel you can't trust your skills: you have a desire for a reason. and i know i am most forgiving of the most earnest art. no one ever tells a five-year old that their refrigerator art sucks because it doesn't: it's sheer energy and the love of creating that connects us to our Creator. it doesn't suffer from ego or competitiveness or self-doubt. i feel like i have been trying to find that inner child for twenty years and sometimes i think i manage to get a hold of her, but she never stays. clearly i am not feeding her enough pie.

so this weekend i am eating cheese popcorn, watching A & E's entire Horatio Hornblower series (which i have never seen!), and i am drawing something like the picture above ~ because i have to trust that my invented world is a safe place where i play god and critics are just crickets chirping unintelligibly in darkness.

edit: and there it is, three hours and some change later. i'm posting it in a reduced size, so i dunno if you can read it (i can on my computer, but my resolution is gargantuan here). and yes, there is a typo in there, which i have fixed for the final "draft". it came out a lot darker tone-wise than i intended, and it's certainly not perfect, but i think it's not bad for throwing something together without a cogent plan.

odd thing is, that's it. i mean, that's the prologue. i thought of stretching it over a couple of pages to get a progression of the journey/debris/etc., but since this framework has to stretch out over such a lengthy spell, it almost feels like this is more than sufficient for an opening.

i dunno. i'll kick it around while i go to the bank and run errands.