In our continued specification, endless subdivision, and constant bickering about genre, we are idolizing the products of past processes. We are worshipping at the wrong altar. Genre began as description of creative process. We must reclaim it as the narratives told through the creative process.
The best intention I can set is not a grand vision of my future, but to just do the work, one day at a time. It’s my job to show up for the process, not to judge the results.
Shadow cast across my face.
Ancestor that never was,
Silent friend and forgotten enemy,
I put down my knife poised at your image.
Dearly beloved, that strived bravely in the dark,
How do I call you now?