I've been thinking of art projects. One I found on Apartment Therapy where the guy had made modern art with paint chips he had gathered from various paint stores. Very cool. And I have a hankering to buy different colors of India Ink and try some faces on squared paper.
Don't you love the name India Ink?
And I still haven't dropped the idea of running a thick black line through the middle of my novel. It's not original, but I don't think it's been done with YA. As I write, I'm finding more justification for doing it. It would be meant to be read across the top for a chapter and then across the bottom. Near the end, when all actions and people come together at a wedding, the line would stop.
It would probably irritate readers, but I'm not your momma.
Colors and lines and print and head drawings and novels are all engaging me right now. Not bad for February.
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What a lovely idea, Louise. I love you and the light you shed more than my luggage. I also like the actions and people wedding union idea where the black line of division ends. I've seen such a celebration in my own mind. Sounds so impossible. So so impossible. But what do I know? Not a damn thing. Children. Art. Imagination. I do sometimes see things that seem impossible. Then low and behold, nine months later, that thing has come to be. Real as breathing. Impossible as life. Pained and glorious and leaping for joy.
Well, I think if you're still thinking about that black line, then it must be something that you really should try. If is was a bad idea you would have forgotten all about it.
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