In the early morning, I had a brief thought concerning the writing process, at least concerning my process. A lifetime of software development has built up callouses in my brain. But isn’t that fun?
The thought went something like this:
My process flows like a sculptor whose medium is of a soft character. Clay comes to mind. There isn’t an image trapped within a rock awaiting to be set free. Instead, there is aether teasing to become form.
The beginning of the process, after the rough sketches had progressed to fine lines, was to graduate to wire frame. Basic at first, progressing in complexity to hint an allusion of shape. To the form, eventually, the medium of soft character would make its first presence. It would be applied roughly, in large sections, built up in successive layers. The process continues until the point when the hulking shape is largely suggested. Polished when necessary for insight, otherwise, remaining rough. It is in the later actions that the artistry begins to emerge. Taking a gross, heavy object and transforming into a light, living, moving form. Genius inspired is the aspiration: Striving for progress. A path, pushing onward.
So, this had been my morning thought. Perhaps I was a bit groggy. Those that know me can attest to this: my morning condition.