I am anticipating summer and making plans. Summer is the most important time of my life. The starey sun makes my brain come alive. I love it when the weather's hot. It can never get too hot for me. I create and do things. I have visions and characters come to me. I read, I revel, and I sort of stop being work-a-day Amanda. Basically I still work, I just don't give a damn about work anymore, I am only thinking about the summer and snow cones and writing by the pond. I go outside every day and read and write.
This summer I am going to re-read some older romances that were key to me in high school. I also have a great stash of new poetry and prose to read, Victorians all, mmm.
I have already started on the summer story "Madelyn." I haven't decided how long it will be, don't really care. It is the summer story because sometimes stories are born out of sunlight and weeds and highway, and this is one of them. It's about one of my weedy, reedy maidens. (See above Waterhouse painting for ideas) My last one was Fanchon. That was in 2003. I haven't had a maiden come to me since then, so I am excited and haven't delayed in writing.
As the years have passed, fewer characters have come to me. I haven't known what to think of it. I try not to think of it. I try to just work with what I have, but I have been worried. But I like to think that the ones that do come are of a better quality.
The Madelyn story is fierce. It is almost making me sick sometimes because I can't get it out of my mind into words. It reminds me of The Sound and the Fury in that way, because I remember learning that's how Faulkner felt, and The Sound and the Fury felt like summer and weeds and memories like my summer stories always do. But I am not Faulkner. I know that, it's okay.