Writing a rough draft like I did for this post is the closest I get to understanding what a visual artist might feel starting a painting, sculpture, clay pot, tapestry, piece of furniture, or any other medium.

I almost always enjoy the sense of wonder at where the newest piece might wind up when it's all said & done (emphasis on almost always). Now that I think of it, writing might actually be closer to composing music in that a tune, rhythm, or line rattles around in a composer/songwriter's head until they transpose it.

But coming in a close second to that sense of wonder is the knowledge that my editor/proofreader has slipped offstage for what amounts to a dress rehearsal. That harsh taskmaster of mine eases into the role of supporter extraordinaire, whispering cues & encouragement to let the words flow unimpeded by mechanical or grammatical constraints & only nudging me for tactical adjustments.

It's a dance I thoroughly enjoy, especially given the fact that before long, I'll invite that trusted partner to tea for a healthy dose of wrangling.

Meanwhile, I'm ready to get back to the Rough Draft Ranch where all hell can break loose & nobody gets hurt.

Till next time,

Drew
Drew Faraday
Pearl Fields and the Oregon Meltdown