AGMeade

2017 has apparently become the year of doing things. For the first time since some time in middle school I chopped my hair off. I plan to go back in to have an inch or two more taken off to shape it, but Amber is now Amber of the Pixie Cut.

Still writing. A little. Drabbles only, nothing I'd force on you beautiful people.

Do the things that scare you. It's worth it.

In that time I moved across the country -- twice -- and finally settled into Michigan. I bought a house and paid off a car. I met siblings that I never knew I had and I indulged in a lot of self-pity. I crocheted, I colored, I remodeled an entire home. I discovered that I am a diabetic, my mother had a second heart attack and my hair literally fell out due to stress.

What I didn't do during that time was write. Not one word. I didn't pull out my old stories, I didn't write new words. I created absolutely nothing. I'm here to, hopefully, rectify that. Here's to making new things again.

A long time ago, in a reality that seems very, very far away, deviantART was a source of great inspiration and motivation for me. I don't know if that still exists here, but I'm sure hoping it does.

CSS made by TwiggyTeeluck

Do you remember some time back when there was a visual art meme floating around which encouraged artists to show off how far they've come? They took a piece of art that they did some time back and then redid it with everything they've learned?  We need to make that a thing with Lit. I know some of you LitFolks work your ever loving asses off, and it's sometimes a lot harder to see the progress.

So, let's start a journal flood. Or comment flood. Let's flood something!

Here is a photographic journal of a night in the life of AGMeade. I know I've been radio silent on the writing front here on dA, but that doesn't mean I haven't been working. I have! I've been editing and rewriting up a massive storm. I fully anticipate being able to share some of what I've been working on in the next couple of days. In the mean time, a photographic journal.

Because what is a writer without hot beverage?

And furry companion to help? Or hold papers... while he sleeps. And look how clean those pages are!

And this is where the real work begins.

Not so clean now, are you pages?! Fear the writer and her mighty red pen!

 I take this:

Cut it apart by scene and summary, then lay it out on the floor so I can rearrange it like a huge, literary puzzle:

Then tape it all back together so it'll stay in the new order in case I have to stop mid-transcribe:

And then we start typing:

Until the furry companions get in the way and you realize it's 3 a.m. and you should get some sleep...

Then you wake up the next morning, set laptop on puppies head, and get back to typing: