One hundred consecutive days of writing, editing, polishing, drafting new content. A manuscript that has a voice and momentum of its own. My most engaging book writing endeavor with its fiery passion and nonconforming structure.
One hundred consecutive days of choosing a horizontal landscape photo I’ve taken. Conversing with its forms, colors, and the experiences that led to the picture. Moving my fingers across a tiny square paper landscape, shaping oil pastel colors into forms that decide themselves whether they’ll arrive as kin to their photographic inspiration.
