I miss the guy who is as excited about my independence as I am and who doesn’t mind when I need to be alone for awhile or the times that I practically want to sleep right on top of him.  I miss the guy who wants to talk all night even when we have to get up early and we’re both exhausted.  I miss the guy who respects my need live my life my own way – right or wrong or inconvenient. I ache for the guy who knows what a “safe word” is and honors it without question.
I miss the guy I want to wake up next to, laugh with, tease and adore.  I miss the guy who wants to read in the park or wander downtown for hours on foot.  I miss the guy who stops mid-sentence as something beautiful stalls his thoughts, be it a flower or a sunrise or a woman.
I miss the man who will read my body language as though he’s known me all his life, and whose body I read as though he were my favorite most beloved novel. I long for the man who will make me forget where I was going because he is a better journey than I could have ever imagined.  For this man I will happily hold and shield him from the chaos of the world at large, I will be a ground for his energy –a place to rest his head, because I know he would do the same for me. I will gaze at him in the morning in our moments before the world and let him see in my eyes how delicious he is, how powerful I believe him to be.  I will show him that I have chosen him – above all others. I picked him.  

For this man my body will respond, my spirit flame and my smile shine. For him I will glow because I will see him glowing for me in return.  My fingers will know his shape like worn brail, the sound of his voice as familiar to me as the ocean.  Music in our bodies and rhythm in our dance. He is my partner. Made for me. His mouth fits the curve of my throat - his hands my hips as though he were fashioned for me alone. In lost nights his arms are open to me and when for once I cannot hold myself alone – I will trust him to reach.  

I am passionate.  I have embraced my personal legend. I am fiercely independent and full of joy just to be.  I understand grace and gratitude and although I judge myself harshly, I am also forgiving.  I am creative and blessed with wanderlust. I am giving and receiving and smart enough to comprehend the difference. I believe in magic, synchronicity and beauty. I believe in living a life without jading, without fear, without worry of being measured. And so does the man I’m looking for – have you seen him? 

I’m searching all over the world for him. One city at a time.

Brain is full of snot, and yet I feel great! Just having a project to write on, and a few days of dairy/gluten-free eating has helped me level out – a lot. Mostly it’s the writing though. Once the floodgate is opened it just keeps seeming to flow. 

I read a little to Indigo last night, and realized that she’s never seen the process unfold before. Generally, I don’t show anything to anyone until it’s been reworked and rewritten at least three times – and even then I explain quite heavily that’s it’s still a working draft.

When I was younger and read or showed work still in the really raw process, I used to get really wounded that they couldn’t see the vision as it was unfolding.  Or I assumed I just wasn’t strong enough to write it out effectively so I would give up – believing I’d never be able to express what I knew in my head.

Now, it only briefly fazes me. As soon as I remember that like all works – it takes layers, drafts and tuning. With painting there is primer and outlining and mixing and shading and hues. With sculpting you start out with only the rough form and the basic shapes and over time with much careful planning there is shaping and molding and grinding.

Now that I know this, and I’ve seen my own process – I remember why I wait so long to show anyone even a rough draft. Still, I am so excited to be setting up a special space now that I’ve gotten my schedule fixed at work, I can encourage consistency – which is really important to having a sense of security in mind before sitting down to lose myself in that headspace.

Also, now that I’m older I understand the importance of editors. Eyes that catch things you miss.  Minds that can see the inner workings of story structure and help tighten things that someone who is not a storyteller by nature or craft would overlook. God bless the editors!

My plan is to have my first fantasy fiction/ erotic manuscript off to an agent by June 2008.  That’s the goal. I want Liam and Harmony polished and set cover to cover by this summer. I also plan, for my own amusement to finish reworking and rewriting the Supernatural episode by the end of the month. Mostly for kicks and giggles – but I might also try to send it out. Who knows.

The point is – I feel like I’m home. Keyboard, coffee and a slew of characters that want to be set loose on the world. Wooo-hoooo!!