Originally posted on March 13, 2010 at 3:47 AM
My main character is becoming real.
The word “creative” has two kin: create and creator. We don’t always associate these with each other, but the fact is, my creativity means I am a creator, creating. Right now, I do feel like one, drawing a living being from nothingness… or rather from the gray matter that is my mind.
She’s like a sculpture. She started as a block of clay, wood, marble, and I started cutting. I carved away until I could see her form. In the darkness of the car on my four hour drive to CS, (in which I stupidly forgot to pack my CDs) I suddenly saw her hair. Then I saw her form, in action, pressed against a wall hiding in one of my scenes. That one action tells me who she is. I know her. She is sculpted, suddenly and fully—even her clothes.
But she is gray, like my brain, and I paint her. Her skin, her markings, her eyes. Her eyes are part of the spark. Like in a painting how the eyes are dead until you add the gleam, and suddenly the portrait is looking at you wherever you go. She’s like that, now, a sculpture almost alive in my mind, watching me, waiting to live.
She needs the breath of life. The final touch. The flame that lights her.
She needs a name.
Share this:
