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That is, Love. Remember when I was sighing last post because eugh that fricken thing was so difficult to write?

Well, I wrote it, with a little help from Virginia Woolf (speaking as Lily Briscoe, of course.)

In To the Lighthouse, which I am currently reading, Woolf wrote:

All that in idea seemed simple became in practice immediately complex…

(Woolf 1994: 109-110)

about the process of artistic creation (here within the context of painting).
My reaction, of course, was along the lines of ‘preach, sistah, preach!’
And then? I read this:

Still the risk must be run, the mark must be made.

(Woolf 1994: 110)

In essence: stop pansyfootying about, Lily, and get on with it! And so, as fictions Lily did, I did too.

Start with what you know you want, the base ideas. This is not what you usually write, a story. This is a painting, of a very particular emotion at a very particular time. What distinguishes it? Where is its heart?

And when I got that, everything else seemed to fall into place (including the first line – which was meant to be the first line of this post).

At any rate, it’s done now. And while it’s not perfect, and probably never will be, I think it’s alright.
Well, what are you waiting for? Go read it, now! It’s on Pinpricks and Feathers, for the uninitiated 😀

(If you’re wondering what, exactly, I’m quoting from, it’s the Wordsworth Classics edition of To the Lighthouse, published in 1994.)

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