I haven’t drawn anything the past week or so. I have been working on The Feral Heart in Chapter 1 – again. I do not know many novelists, but I wonder how many revisions you can do before your work becomes a hack job. I feel almost like it’s ruined. The entire book is a complete mess, like a drawing that has been erased on so many times the paper is ragged. I have faded out characters, deleted huge chunks, added nuances of character development. But I am to the point I am tired of the process. Usually when I do stuff like this, I can just put it aside and quit. The problem is, Micah won’t go away. I keep thinking about him, my main character. Micah is calling to me, howling. I have created a real dog. A dog whose story is just beginning.
Micah shivered angrily in the cold October rain. He watched it collect into a miniature lake near his feet. Drip drops on fallen leaves muffled the occasional bleats of sheep in the nearby barn. Micah blinked at his mother. She was perched like a griffin on top of her house in the adjacent pen.
“I will miss you,” she said without turning her eyes his way.
Micah pressed his claws against the wire, his eyes pinched into points. “What if I am to be a pet? And I have to sleep inside a human house? It would be worse than herding sheep. At least now I have air.” His breath came desperately, as if he would never taste it again.