Language is not the lowborn, gawky servant of thought and feeling; it is need, thought, feeling, and perception itself. The shape of sentences, the song in its syllables, the rhythm of its movement, is the movement of the imagination.
WILLIAM H. GASS
And now a year’s passed since the idea for Starshine first struck. A year that wrought seven chapters, roughly half the novel. Distracted much? Of course. No use in crafting excuses, it’s simply a matter of prioritization. I don’t write for a living, I write for pleasure. I spend my free leisure time doing pleasurable things, and writing isn’t the only pleasurable thing I do. I may say I want to be a career writer, but apparently it’s not a burning want (yet). I can only say that right now, I write in due time. When I’m supposed to… and that’s not on a set schedule. I enjoy life and keep returning to the story to move with it, breathe with it, and listen to it speak. What it eventually becomes will be a pleasure to see. This is all I know and for now, it is enough.