drafting

Today I am doing an outline and first draft of a floor. ( endless tile neepery )

The center of the floor is the setting for a mosaic, which I am still planning as I look at what I have, but which will be vaguely representative of kelp. Kelp is the tree of life, really, whatever anybody else thinks.
So I was thinking about the way I draft things. The way I do an outline usually is to do a short treatment -- either a long short story length or a fragment -- it looks like a failed short story. When I see what I've got, then I can plan the real novel. THat's sort of what I've done with the tiles.

So I'm taking a break because the hand therapist says you really must, and I woke up with burning sensation from my fingertips up past my elbow this morning, presumably from stacking tiles yesterday.

( Bride of fluff )

floor outlining continued

THe analogy never ceases. Now I have the easy part done, the structure around the outside -- the scaffold, that is -- and I have such a clear, bright, beautiful vision for the middle, and I am really terrified of execution. The nice fellow keeps saying "quilt patterns? Quilt patterns are more conducive, aren't they? You have those angles and things?" He's dubious about kelp. My vision is clear, however. By "done," up there, I meant "laid out."

Now I have to go back to stacking.

The nice fellow has done the dishes, the compost and now he's doing the laundry, after a full day of work. All I have done today is the tile thing and call about a job (they said, we don't know, we'll call you).