Monday, April 12, 2010
Driving, Skies, Poppet. Humans. Stories.
Today was lots of driving, mostly in and around the eucalyptus-scented hills of Hollywood.
I seem to be learning about writing as I write.
It makes sense, when writing, not to try to write the stories we're in. Stories seem better written with the perspective that time brings to them. I don't know this yet, I am only guessing.
It also makes sense to note bits of detail that will very likely get lost or forgotten.
It seems to me that quite a lot of my life is sketched in the margins of notebooks.