"Playful Painted People"

Another Painted Person waking up on the canvas — even in 2026, still asking to be seen. And so the story goes on.

After a month‑long break, I’m finally returning to the Painted People Story. What began as a modest idea decades ago has grown into a sprawling, intricate creature — a monster that evolves year after year. Its complexity deepens because the characters, much like myself, are always reaching for freedom in a monstrous world.

Writing isn’t quick for some of us — myself in particular. It unfolds slowly: word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. Yes, there is an outline. Yes, there is a plot. But Painted People is a character‑driven world, and characters have a way of revealing new truths when you least expect it.

Sometimes, after weeks away from the draft, a detail or a voice appears as if it had always been waiting there, insisting on its place in the story. And suddenly, entire chapters must shift to make room for it. Those changes ripple backward, syncing with earlier events — especially those in Chapter 1 — so the narrative remains whole.

A creator’s work is never truly finished… until the moment it is. Every story has a beginning, a long and winding middle, and eventually, an end. No matter how slow the journey, the ending must come.

With each return to the manuscript — whether it’s the second time or the hundredth — the story sharpens. Characters take on new shades, new contradictions, new depth.

​Abel, for instance, is no longer simply a jealous lover. His controlling, possessive nature has stepped forward. He has become the gravitational force of Painted People, pulling every character into collision.

There is a tragic, operatic irony at the heart of Abel’s actions. In trying to control Zeno’s world, Abel inadvertently connects Zeno to the very man (Travis Weatherford) who will unravel everything. Abel becomes the bridge — and the fuse — in a chain of events he cannot foresee.

In many ways, Abel is a ticking time bomb embedded in the narrative. Every character in Painted People is being unmasked and propelled toward this bomb Abel himself has set — a fuse that may lead, ultimately, to Abel’s own destruction.

Despite the challenges and complexities, I say: carry on. The sun begins to rise. And I know for some of you that’s hard to imagine — the sun up here is hardly present in the morning.

Except on certain mornings, when you open the terrace door and the coldest air you’ve ever felt rushes in, and you can see yellow and orange breaking in the east. But still no sun yet. You close the door quickly because it’s too cold — the kind of cold that settles in when the snow is gone, when winter refuses to release its grip.

And yet, even then, the light returns.

So does the story.
​
So do I — and a few faithful followers.