These were my last thoughts last night before I fell asleep, after a long period of struggling to sleep while listening to a playlist titled Circles & Labyrinths. It was cold and my mind was wintering in its own way, and somehow sought warmth in old, comfortable fantasies. A Raven Boy was the closest at hand (at heart), and there happened to be a love song playing and the tail-end of a storm was making the night so very cold.
So I let myself be carried away to an imagined future of a fairy tale ball, only that it was my fairy tale creative exhibit as well, and that somehow along the way of getting to that convergence point of a happily-ever-after, the Raven Boy and I had crossed paths and crossed hearts.
Even as I was busy dreaming this love story there was a part of myself also busy piling up sketches in my already crowded head. Sketches that I have yet to learn how to make. Seeds I have to coax to grow. Seeds that must bear the work that will make that fairy tale creative exhibit come true.
I revisited an old draft of a novel, that was written in an intoxicated state of hope three years ago. It has been nagging for a rewrite as soon as the hangover hit one year later. But I have been pre-occupied with other things and I was not sure how to go about it. The other day I finally opened the dormant file and a whole new perspective on how to tell the story again presented itself.
I loved someone once. Many, many years ago.
Last night I finished this complex big piece -- trust me to subject myself to complex and big at the same time -- and I am generally pleased with the results. Will keep on experimenting though until I hear that unmistakable click in my head of having gotten it exactly right.