(still at) 65


 

Loving this writing book.

I’m getting better at writing without revising. It’s tough to push forward without fixing something I know needs to be fixed, but the reward is experiencing my plot unfold on the page while my characters become more complex, fractured even.

My protagonist’s name is Adi, short for Advaita, which is a Hindu name meaning focused. For most of her twenty years in this world, Adi has been a pretty focused individual. But when she learns about a family secret, she becomes unwound, frayed at the edges, tangled.

Adi and I share something in common. Our focus prevents us from welcoming the messiness of life with open arms. We fixate on something in order to avoid the uncertainty lurking around the corner.

This is my biggest flaw as a writer. Instead of testing the waters or taking risks, I want things to be wrapped up neatly with a bow. It limits my ability to tell a story fully, deeply. It prevents my characters from becoming three dimensional.

Adi and I need to learn how to focus and unravel at the same time.

*  *  *  *  *  *

This morning at 5 am, I thought the house had been cracked in half. The thunder was that loud. It’s been like this all week. Torrential rains, lightening as bright as a million camera flashes in the sky.

March is going out like a lion on Mountain Dew laced with steroids.

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