The scene that I just wrote tonight, is perhaps the most perfect scene I’ve ever written.
Maybe it’s the mania talking–that feeling that comes after I’ve done something I think it is wicked awesome. Could be. I mean, it’s late, and I might have had one drink. And I might have gotten swept away in the song that I feel helped facilitate the scene (which I listened to on repeat), and so, in short, who knows?
I don’t know. I think the scene is perfect. It wasn’t easy to write either. I began it a few days ago, but it’s a night scene. A serious scene. And I was writing it while the sun ripped through the sky happily shining on everything, illuminating every last thing.
And this scene, is a poignant one. The setting is night. The emotion is sorrow and regret, and some form of penitence, mashed together with self-defense.
I couldn’t write it in the day. It needed to be night. And I needed to be in a certain frame of mind to tap into the emotions.
I’m still not sure if I did it justice for Holly Drake. I tried my best, and the readers (you!) will decide in the end if it works or not.
And tomorrow there’s a really good chance I’ll read back over it and laugh and ask, “What the fuck was I thinking?”
But right now, I feel like I’ve never written anything more tender and gentle about a character and her life than this one in this moment.
Holly Drake’s stories are sci-fi, steam punk, space opera. But I write real scenes about real grief and real joy. It’s not a love story, but there is love in it, and hope, and desire. And that’s because I think those are the things that make the excitement and adventure worth more than a monkey’s ass. Without the human grief and emotion, who really gives a shit about a wicked awesome scene where Holly is basically surfing through the sky on a thin slab of metal?
I ask you. What’s the point?
Oh, and here’s the amazing song I listened to on repeat. You’re welcome, my friend. You’re welcome.
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