back on tracks
Yesterday, after what seemed like an eternity of zilch, I finally wrote something.
It began when I met a fellow writer, trying to cover our respective grounds for writing in least time possible (I kept wondering how differently we see things; but that’s, most likely, all right since we seem to have wildly different purpose of writing, and wildly different points of emphasis in the story). Anyhow, while we talked, I saw a most perfect character for a story sitting at the table behind the guy’s back. An hour later, she reappeared on a free-writing page (which was actually one of the rare moments when I used free writing), dragging a whole new concept of time travel with her, and then another time, this time in a scene with some guy. That story still needs work (the best things have been left behind the curtain), but it is there, tangible, tasteable.
Then I started doodling on what I hoped could be a blog entry and another story spun itself, this one came complete, simple, unsophisticated and cute. The Five Steps To Magic kept me grinning for a long time.
And the feeling that I’ve finally come back to life; that writing doesn’t just disappear; the realization that I do it because it’s immensely fun. That part somehow always gets forgotten while waiting for a new story to be born: that it is fun and it is supposed to be that way.
