My pen flies across the pages sketching, sketching, sketching. First my protagonist’s body is roughed out, then the articles surrounding her. Black and white, fine lines. The scenes are flickering in fast forward and I must work non-stop to capture a vision with a sentence, a motion with a word. The bare outlines of the images that race through my brain are transferred to the page. The contours, the colors, the shading will wait for now.
I envision my empty pages as a wall-sized canvas. Just as an artist fills a canvas with a cohesive, amazing set of artwork, the writer fills pages. Vibrant colors will stimulate, shading will draw you deeper, and contours will smooth rigidity. But right now, my canvas is empty and waiting. With words as my tools, I start sketching.
Today I outline the beginning, the protagonist’s hair Continue reading