It's not happening yet.
I know it will happen eventually. I love rewriting, because then I can cut all the bad stuff and add all the humor and the magic. I can get to know the characters I love. I enjoy what Jeff Hirsch said on his blog--writing's kind of like sculpting, and that first draft is the hunk of granite you can carve away at later, revealing something beautiful and Michelangelo-ish inside.
But right now I don't have something like this:
|I love Rodin|
Or even this:
|Unfinished, but still amazing!|
|Whee. A quarry. It's dangerous and confused and full of heavy hunks of rock.|
I'm grateful for geniuses like Rodin and Michelangelo and Shakespeare--they show me what human creativity can accomplish, even if what I do is nearer to the level of my son Ninja's homemade jokes than to a Spenserian sonnet.
(Speaking of jokes, here's a sample from today...
Ninja: Mommy, why am I afraid of snow?
Me (confused, because he's acting scared, his eyes wide, his frown big): Why are you? It's soft and fluffy. You always liked it before.
Ninja (pausing): Snow eats me!
Me (truly confused): What?
Ninja (now he's grinning): It's a funny joke. I'm kidding! You should not believe me. Silly mommy.
Silly mommy indeed.)