Most of my waking time has been spent in the studio, a space far away from writing by every metric, physically divided by three floors and the insufficient reach of my wifi, mentally by the half of my brain that deals in shapes and movements, that taking over the hermit crab section which sits, watches and records.
My hands still shake, badly, but their intent is clearer, their output cleaner. Two weeks ago I made three terrariums by hand. It took me a month but I’ve learned to cut glass with a glass key. My divisions are keen enough now for me to accurately cut mirror, something I’ve read is one of the most difficult types of glass object to cut cleanly. My finishing skills have greatly improved.
I’ve discovered a hardening chemical that will enable me to better work with raw wood, putting better to use the drift wood and windfall I collect on my walks through River Front Park.
Onward progresses my plan of using recycled materials to raise environmental awareness, to operate a business that, by its existence, improves the planet.
Far from the writing frame as I’ve been I cannot put it aside completely. Yesterday I wrote the highlights for a season long screen play. The first idea came as a complete scene, a discussion between two unknown but familiar characters. A great many of my ideas start this way.
I left for D.C. at noon. I don’t remember the trip between Harrisburg and the capital city limits. The two hours were spent ironing out plots and laying out conversations. By the trip home I had a complete character roster, an overarching plot, a series of subplots, character back stories, an understanding of the world, and the type of interactions I want the characters to have. It’s been a long time since my brain has handed me something so complete, my greatest fear now is that I won’t be able to get it all down before the idea begins to fade, corrode, and dissipate.
So I write here, instead, because if I don’t work on that story in can remain perfect as an idea.
Or, I write here to kick off the dust and spend the first few dried and dull strings of sentences on something not immemorial, on something nearly transient and ephemeral.