Make up a story… For our sake and yours forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief’s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear’s caul.
– Toni Morrison
The truth of the matter is, I am a lazy writer. I don’t want to have to work out the details as I go, I want all the answers before I begin. There’s a certain smug comfort in having all the answers before putting oneself into a perilous situation. And writing down the bones and shadows and blood and guts that lurk not-quite-deeply-enough in my soul is a committment most perilous, should I ever intend to show the strewn errata to anybody. Much less hope to have them understand what the bloody hell I was on about. Which requires time and effort to edit into shape plus a lot moar words, as I tend to write short in my first drafts. So hey, I’m also a committment-phobe. Yay me.
65 by William Shakespeare
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o’ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O! how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wrackful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall Time’s best jewel from Time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O! none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.