It's pretty gray outside my house. The sky is gray. The ground is gray. The roads are gray. Dust and dirt are everywhere, even on the snow that used to sparkle a clean, crisp white. It's hard not to feel gray, too.
I'm wishing it was spring. Spring might just be my favorite time of year. I love the greens that spring up everywhere. Green has been my favorite color as long as I can remember. I love the colors that start to peak through the snow and dirt as the first flowers begin to bloom. Lilies, daffodils, tulips. It's the sign of returning life after all the cold death of winter.
It actually kind of reminds me of the revision process. I'm right in the middle of it now. I'm taking something that was cold and lifeless and adding color to it. Little bits of detail peaking through the drab and making it breathe. After this draft is done, I might have to go through and prune it back a bit, like a good gardener. Being completely overrun isn't very pretty. You don't know where to look first or what the focus is. Too much of a good thing is still too much.
I think this might be my best motivation yet to keep on revising. I want a book that is an orderly but beautiful garden of words. What keeps you working on that next draft?
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