I’m writing again. Last month I didn’t write a thing–not a word. No poem, no sentence, nothing. (Unless you count a blog post, which in this context I don’t.) I don’t really know what happened. Maybe I was putting too much pressure on myself, trying to get something “right” to be published. Maybe I was just trying to force myself to write something that I didn’t feel that passionate about. I don’t know. Really, I don’t care.
What I care about, is that I’m writing again.
At the start of the month I got a spark, an idea. It was random and totally out of the blue, and it hit when I was driving. But I held onto it and mulled it over as I raced home. I wrote it down when I got there, not knowing where it was going. But I did it. I wrote something. Just a paragraph or two to start with, and I gave myself permission to stop after that. I still had no clue what would come of it.
The next day I went back and added a little bit more. Just whatever came to mind. I didn’t worry about if it made sense, if it made a good story, if I would eventually need to change it or edit it. I just wrote, not caring if it was shit or gold.
I got absorbed in my friend’s wedding after that, and didn’t return to the page for an entire week. But I did. I went back again. I a full page and then some.
I went back again today and wrote two pages. The story is growing, getting longer. I still have no clue where it’s going or what will come of it. And truth be told I don’t care. I’m enjoying the journey. I’m letting my imagination take me wherever it will, regardless of anything else. This doesn’t have to meet anyone else’s eyes. Just mine. I just need to enjoy it. And I am.
Here’s what I do know about it:
–it takes place in a fictional, unnamed (as of yet) seaside town
–there is a Priestess, a witch in it. She’s the magickal kind that can cast spells and is friends with fairies and is learning to open up and trust again
–in writing this story I’m opening up again. I’m letting my imagination run rampant and it feels good. It feels right. I haven’t felt this good in ages. This little story is changing me in the best ways.
–I’ve tried to fit myself into the mold of plotter for awhile. Making myself notes, having a clear idea where the story was going to go. It doesn’t work. I’m too stifled. Though I’ve only written a total of four pages (front and back) this story has already taught me that I’m happiest when I just write and don’t worry about having a map. The entire process feels more natural this way.