Since I’ve undertaken exploration of the influences and details of my work, does this mean something new is approaching? Does this leave new material for me? Does it cut me off from my “talent?” Does it leave questions in your mind?
These words, you know, transcend their origins enough so that many times they’ve been given just enough mental twist to fit exactly the words I’ve sought yet never, ever changing the exact words written. Is that violation of the feeling, the intent in which I originally wrote? What of the carefully paired meanings, encrypted perfectly by something as simple as the moment in which used?
Does my work become diminished by analysis, just as Shakespeare and all the others? Of course, if I was to analyze and then express the analysis in a form as cryptic as the work itself, would that not be another wonder in itself?
On another skein, how I wish I could compile this work of a story, fit it together in its entirety, as I sometimes can almost see it.
There is enough work done, I can sense, to do so. What with I’seah and the stories and poems, all that remains is to fill the spaces. Perhaps it is waiting for a finish. Every story must be governed by a finish—and a beginning. That’s probably why there are so many series, trilogies, chronicles. The authors can’t finish or even begin their stories to completeness.
Of course, I am unfinished, so perhaps that is it. I have alluded to the characters being real. But Rowan/Amiel are not fully defined. Siawn/Enia are not either. Are they four or two? Or some middle number? Of course it could be apparent I want that middle or the four, but my desires have little ever exactly matched the outcome. Not to say there is no resemblance. There are so many images that match my desires.
My, this has become self all to quickly.
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Draw Me: https://paperscreams.wordpress.com/2005/01/02/draw-me/
Cold Coffee and Flannel 