The weekend’s been for writing and contemplation.
The writing has been going through a thorough renovation as I become ever more brave about editing. The fear was always there with writing. Never with art. I had no fear of scrubbing it all out, no fear of starting again. Writing is different for me. I hold on to the words, the story, the characters. Too afraid to let it all change.
Writing Butterfly Coffee is like working dough or pastry. But with dough I am more in tune with the process, with the contents, the expectation of the final result. With pastry – the conditions have to be right. With all these things, patience, always patience. Waiting.
I have learned to have a bit of patience.
When you lose an entire manuscript, it takes a lot to summon the confidence to start again. But the renewing of the story has lead to a different approach, gingerly stepping forward in to the haar of the mind. A maturity has set in.
The contemplation has been about going in deeper and deeper. Asking inside – what is it, where is it, how.
Discarding so much en route on this journey has been the purpose. Not acquiring, but letting go. Losing things, waving good bye to people. Baggage not needed. And my, I have hoarded so much internally, so much of others’ lives.
So forgive me if I seem distant, I am changing (a little) at the moment, as is my story. The dough is rising, the pastry is shaping, the words are working.