I've been feeling a little under the weather this past week. I don't really know why. Today, it's pretty much just a tension headache and the unyielding desire for a nap, which is a considerable improvement. Oh, and an annoying ache in my shoulder, which is making it very difficult to sit down and write.
Yes.
I'm writing.
Finally.
Well, technically, I'm only writing the plot skeleton. It's probably the thousandth skeleton that I've scribbled down in the hundredth scrap notebook cluttering my bedroom shelves. I tend to write outlines for stories that I think have potential at the time, only to drop them when I decide I hate the writing style. Or I decide that the plots suck and there's no salvaging them. I always seem to find new excuses - they're easier to come up with than story arcs.
All my stupid hangups aside, I'm determined to be productive this summer. If it kills me (and it just might), I'm committed to transcribing this story from mere thoughts to something tangible. The premise is fantastically dark. Almost Burton-esque. Only, I don't think Burton would pen a BL-themed novel. I could imagine turning it into a manga if I could find an artist who draws with an ethereal flair reminiscent of artwork by Ayano Yamane and as much attention to detail as Kazuya Minekura...
Maybe I should just focus on writing the damn thing first.
Is there music in your head? Have you followed where it led and been graced with a taste of the beauty underneath? Does it fill your every sense? Is it terribly intense? Tell me you need it, too - need the beauty underneath.
Listening to: The Beauty Underneath - Love Never Dies
