God of Marriage Saga: Chapter 4
Imported from SF2 with no description.
Imagination is the grounds where marriages of ideas are possible. All kinds of great, wonderful, and terrible things, can occur within...
_Wait. Within? _
I was thinking of imagination as a 'place', and not a process. Because... it was clearly there, right? A plane or something I could see into, with possibilities like Aerith slugging me senseless with some kind of nondescript keyboard that kept morphing like it was temporally unstable or some--
Tracer: "That'll be because it is, love!"
... right. I just had to take my muse's word for it. All six hyena-spotted feet of her word. Ayayai...
The issue was that, I think... my filter had broken. Not from Tracer's exposed hyena-tits, mind you, though, that was a start. The part of me that instinctively hid these things from the world, could simply... no longer do such a thing. It just, had simply been enough. Simply. I'd hid, too long, not to let someone see the thought processes in typed format. Simple.
What part about any of this was SIMPLE?!
As I kept trying to convince myself of the ease of the work... it just sort of happened. Like a cat walking on a keyboard.
No, the quality... declined there... I'm almost positive of it.
...it seemed like, if I could keep myself positive, maybe the quality of my writing would increase.
Focus, blockhead. Imagination... what is it?!
... things were going on together... combinations of wordplays and situational jokes... familiar faces... old ideas. Myths. Conventions. Stories... organisms? Visual data... no, shut up, I'm not a computer, damnit!
It was all getting to be a bit much. I could see the narrative structure breaking down, as I tried too hard to understand the shape of my own mind, and... whatever lay beyond it, that was giving me... Imagination.
Aerith kept fighting with me over the impulse to type: "You're struggling with the keyboard in your own head!"
And that was when the voice of doom tried to commit this all to insanity. The self-deprecatory. The self-destroyer.
It was then, that I realized... even the most aspiring writing projects, by the most confident of writers, need breaks.
And like fuck was I the most confident or aspiring.
But maybe if I push... just beyond that limit...
I went and grabbed myself a soda. This was going to be awhile.