From the inside out

I was going over my drafts and editing all sorts of prose and free verse when a thought hit me: people liked this blog better when I was "emo". When I spilt guts. When I let 'em have it. When my thoughts weren't secret and my feelings were all over the goddamn place. I think I lost most of my readership when I decided to take a break from passionate postings. Hell, it's all still here, I just don't feel like posting it. But maybe that'll change. I'm sure there's a compromise to be found. I just got sloppy; I needed a break.

Recently I found myself rewriting my novelette "My Dear Child". In between completely rewriting the ending and adding more introspective dialogue, it dawned on me: I had forgotten how good it felt to lay down a little of myself into emotive, concise sentences. I've been writing/editing in bits and pieces, and every second of it is a joy.

I found my muse again. Or rather, she found me.