Above: Moniack Mhor, where I've been fortunate to spend some time recently. My wonderful writing group ended last week, and the best thing I learned is how differently people create their work. One carefully crafts each word, taking his time to create beautifully written sentences. Another is harsh, deliberate, almost violent in his choices. Another utilizes an acerbic wit, laced with unspoken heartbreak. Another's feminine voice seems to ooze glitter and makeup and glamour. I am in awe of how differently people can interpret a similar task, how disparate our brains are when cranking out creativity.
And I've learned that the way I do things is fine, too. I've read every book out there about 'how to' write fiction, and while I appreciate insight into how others create, the connecting thread is the mere act of putting fingers to keyboard. I've completed the first draft of a book in five months, the fastest I've ever churned out a book. Now it's redrafting time, editing time, looking for holes and inconsistencies and things that don't work. I like this part, especially when I read something and forget I've written it, or when I find a part that sings. Keeping Duke's words at the front of my mind: say it without saying it.