The time…

Time gets away from me…from most people.  Something beautiful one day has turned twisted and gnarled the next.  Nothing of permanence.  I try to grasp this concept as one tries to grasp fog or water.  Lovely for that brief instance before fading or trickling between tightly cupped hands.  Safety, love, respect, even danger (with the right movie playing at 3 am) are impermanent.  Very few people are stuck in amber.  I try to remember that, feeling of of sadness or joy and how it changes(ed), when I write.  Capturing that feeling of right now while knowing the future is never what we expect.

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I need a bigger world.

As much as I would love to write full time, it’s not happening yet.  I still have to work the mundane job to keep the cash flowing.  So I make the best of it I can.

I came in and realized that the world I was “seeing”, my 9-5 as it were, is to small.  When I write, I need a bigger world.  One that encompasses…the all of what I see in my head.  Not just what I see when I get up from my desk, or read on FB etc.

When I write, my world expands to many people, many places and many things.  I have to use a spreadsheet to keep track of the people and the swearing.  Sometimes even the things I create or the new names for something old.

Your own writing maybe only in an elevator with 2 people, but that is your “world” for that moment.  You have to know your characters, the outside factors that make them who they are, why they are in an elevator and not on an island sipping fruity drinks with umbrellas.  Your world maybe small, but it’s “YOUR” world.  Enjoy this world and the other worlds you build.  Ignore the small world you live and grow larger with your writing.  Revel in your world because no one else will know all the way you do.

 

It’s not what you think…

…it’s what you write.

 

I’ve had a few brushes with anxiety attacks and depression.  My doc said get the to a bookstore!  Ok, her exact words were “Try writing your worries and fears down.  That sometimes helps.”  So do meds but those leave me cloudy, floating and unable to think/write.

Most days I write.  Doesn’t matter what it is, as long as I write.  I’ve written outlines for research papers I do for my hobby.  I’ve written grocery lists for week menus.  I’ve worked on random short stories and cook books.  I work on my books, either on the computer or long hand.  As long as I’m writing, that’s what counts.  It’s a focus or a zen to get out of the funky head space.  Writing puts me someplace I’d rather be than right here, right now.

Each chapter, each paragraph, each sentence is creating something that wasn’t there before.  It doesn’t matter that the framework sucks for the story line, you get to go back and change that later as the plot develops.  Yes, you do!  Write what comes out.  I’ve had entire scenes change because a character/scene changed between one draft to the next.  What I had originally written is no longer viable.  Doesn’t matter, I write it down.   Sometimes it works (usually) some times it doesn’t, but I write it down.

Take what you’re thinking and put it on paper or Word.  Get it from your head to the real world.  It counts.  It calms.  It makes the world and you better.

Back in the saddle

Some days the bug bites and some days you ignore the itch when you can.

Today, I had epiphany after epiphany on what I wanted to do with description and narrative.  It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen the wall it was more of ignoring until the scene solidified into more than a sketch.  Something…you could smell, taste and touch when reading.  Drawing the imagination in.

Letting the brain work the magic while meditate and cook.