In case you didn't get it from Friday's post, the writer of the house is in a bit of a funk. So she curled up in her reading chair and settled in with some old friends, including Ray Bradbury. A person simply can't read Zen in the Art of Writing without sitting up a little taller. These words read Sunday night lit the fuse for Monday's work:
"The history of each story, then, should read almost like a weather report: Hot today, cool tomorrow. This afternoon, burn down the house. Tomorrow, pour cold critical water upon the simmering coals. Time enough to think and cut and rewrite tomorrow. But today -- explode -- fly apart--disintegrate! The other six or seven drafts are going to be pure torture. So why not enjoy the first draft*, in the hope that your joy will seek and find others in the world who, reading your story, will catch fire, too?"
*my emphasis, 'cause a certain writer really, really needed to hear this right now.