This has been the weirdest book to write, unlike any I've ever done before. For the last couple of weeks, I swear it has felt more like painting than writing, because it has felt as if I've loaded up my paintbrush with a "wash" of one emotion or another and then laid that color down over the whole manuscript, and then I've done the same thing the next day with another emotion. Today, I laid down a wash of fear. Yesterday, it was sadness. One day it was sexiness, which is not an emotion, I guess, but you know what I mean. Another day it was happiness. And slowly it is becoming a completed picture, like one of Boran2's paintings as he puts down his outline, then layers in the rest of it.
This may not sound strange to some of you, but it's not the usual thing for me. I attribute it to the fact that this is probably the most emotionally complicated novel I've ever attempted. The characters have complex responses to events because of the freighted nature of what happens to them.
I've relaxed into doing it this way, so it feels good. I think this process is a big factor, though, in why I don't have anything left to give to the blog these days. By the end of a day I've given the book everything I've got.
Today (Friday), I'll be working on a scene I've had problems getting right. I hope that this time I can pick the right colors. ;)