I have a manuscript to write. And here I am, blogging instead of writing it. Yeah, yeah, I know.
Here’s the thing: I have the emotional infrastructure to pull off commitment to a project, but the attention span of a hummingbird. Bright colors? Fragrant interjections? I’m the queen of short ‘n sweet. Which is why I have such a patchwork career life, I ‘spose.
This temperament (or dysfunction) works well for me on one level with the historical romance project, in that there is this dovetail relationship between research and narrative development.
I can’t seem to go more than two sentences without having to look up something, or make sure this building or that monument existed in the landscape upon which I’ve built the scene.
But the “romance” element of this project requires digging in my heels and staying in one place until I’ve generated some sort of resonance.
And I tend to run away from resonance, damn it!
Ugh. It's one of those art-and-life conundrums!
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