Mostly, yesterday was spent at Starbucks working on a new comic project. I'm hoping this will be one I can get published. I've been scheming about it for months, but until yesterday, the only solid work I'd done was character sketches. Yesterday I started laying down mythology and history for the world because, naturally, this couldn't be a piece set on contemporary earth. For some reason, the idea of writing in such a setting makes me feel a little depressed. Partly, I think, because I'm reluctant to presume any knowledge of the "real" world, and partly because as I'll inevitably be fantasising I figure; why not go all the way?
I paid for the new Green Tea Latte entirely with quarters. It was disgusting, and I wrote several pages of timeline filled with details I intend to elaborate on in various directions. When I write fiction, I find I need a lot of information, not necessarily within the scope of the story I'm telling. I have this theory about information existing but not being exposed in the story--that it is sensed by the reader, as I do things in writing while knowing that're subconscious, giving an automatic depth to the field. In fact, I find if I don't hash out these details beforehand, the story feels insubstantial to me, and I have trouble taking it seriously.
At the same time, I think stories are far more interesting than encyclopaedias, as interesting as encyclopaedias can certainly be. So I'm always wary of losing my appendage under the sand, so to speak...
I know, if I want any shot at getting this published, it'll have to be in black and white. But, damnit, I wish I could use colour...
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