it’s been a rotten week and shaping up to be a rotten month, work-wise. i came home tonight desperately needing to disconnect, so i put on jane eyre, which has finally made it onto netflix. fassyshark was a little wooden at times, and i personally would have massaged the dialogue in a couple of places to make it flow more naturally. but it was gorgeous.
i’ve been thinking a lot about the fall and how to manage my impending unemployment. i don’t know how long we’ll be able to go before i have to go back to work, and i don’t want to waste a moment of it. i had thought to stay away from the trilogy and try to focus on smaller, more practical projects; i had thought to try and write to spec more, maybe even resurrect a long-dead standalone novel, in the faint hope of generating actual income.
but there was a moment, tonight: there was a moment when wasikowska sits down in a darkened room, faint from the bertha revelation, and fassyshark lights the fire, yes? how warm her face was in that darkness, and the darkness was almost thick, textured—and i was back in my unsellable, overwrought trilogy, i was filled with it, immersed in it. i realized that i have to finish it; even exhausted and achey-eyed, my heart soared at the thought. i can divert to do shorter works, but writing a separate, standalone novel isn’t happening right now.
and just typing those words? a sense of relief.