ch 11 "Velocity"
For every 3-4 "up critiques" like these, the editor sends 20 suggestions for improvement, mostly having to do with my tendency to write very densely. Sometimes I do get tangled up in claws/clauses. And then it makes suggestions for where the plot might go next that I never take, and in fact I rule them out. There is no plot. I just write and rewrite until the changes I make add up to a pattern that is recognizeable so that I myself can see what/how I am thinking.
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| not true, there is just some truth in it; we forged a ride-or-die pact of recovery, that is why not "want"; that ride had ejector seats 🤷🏻♀️ |
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| I hear that. But. Even if true, no. I own me. That is what "she" has to live out. You cannot separate a person from their core selves by asserting a law or principle (or cultural norm or expectation or any fucking thing). But that is what keeps happening to everyone in real life, as far as my eye can see 👁. So that is why this is fiction, because I have to figure out what does not yet exist. I have to imagine a she who has figured out how to live out what her reality actually is. And how she did so joyfully, because in real life that is what I require. It doesn't have to be pure joy all the time, obviously. But like a really beautiful lie has to have some truth in it, this shit has to have some joy in it. And the darker the time, the sharper that joy has to become. |
It's a beautiful day. I was going to go outside and play, but it's still so cold 🥶. So I collaged the Empress card, then let this chapter bubble up into its words. Full on Virgo, all I did was make sense (art) today.
