I thought I had it, then words fucking leapt off the page embarrassed to be seen with each other. Not one to moan I mapped my way back. It was my partner’s idea, mindmapping, and it did help me track down my characters and narrative. But then it went galactically out of control and I landed in the midst of the pitch-fork bearing posse of my fiction (I’ve always liked that word– posse, not fiction). It was the sketchpad that did it. I wrote (yes longhand!) and used collage to capture images and scenes. I mutilated my literary magazines.
I’m not sharing all my pages here of course. This is a work in progress and who knows one of you might be crazy enough to elope with them.
I nearly did elope with them! 😛
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ah but the crazy chicks are only fun while in their thirties. after that they’re just demented… 😉
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Not me. I’d propose properly to their parents. 😛
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and they’d give them away plus dowry…
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Looks like fun! I like that word, too.
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That’s it. My perfect character for my three-hander based in a Texas apartment block. A woman who wakes up with a leopard-print starfish (the shape of the Lone Star) biologically attached to her face. I’m stealing that one – sorry.
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that’s me, baby…
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Nice.
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