having some good writing days; reflecting on the creative process

[iamom]

I've made some palpable progress with my crime story this week, but nothing I'm ready to share with anyone yet. As I worked on it today, I visualized the crafting of a sort of moulded vessel with my words. As the story takes shape, I find myself thinking of it as a living being, growing flesh. Slowly it's expanding into a piece of art in itself, waiting for someone to read and appreciate it.

Christ, that sounds flaky. Sounds like New-Age bullshit, really. But I actually do think of it that way. It's sort of what I think about all creative artistic endeavour, really: it's a sort of tactile expression of our connection with the divine, with our true nature. Some of the quilts that grammardog has been posting about lately also reflect this reality to me (like this one or these ones). As does wickenden's imagery of food and drink and vyoma's macro photography of the natural world, and aldoushuxley's observations about the economy. These are all transcendental art forms in themselves, and I appreciate them deeply.