Friday, August 28, 2015

Persistent Knocking at the Door

When life has gotten hard or in the way and I haven't been able to write, I can assure you just because I haven't written doesn't mean the creativeness hasn't stopped calling.  I've tried to turn off that part of my brain, but then the floodgate gets opened by the most smallest of things (like the waiter singing to himself while clearing a table or seeing the mischievous twinkle in someone's eye).


There are nights I lay in bed and close my eyes for rest, but it doesn't come.  Instead images and voices of characters plead their case to take over.  




"Pick me?" 
"What's my story?"
 "Who will I fall in love with?" 
"What troubles lie ahead?"



Some of those questions I could have very likely been thinking myself get hijacked by the yet-to-be-created characters that take up residence in my mind.  Granted, when I do have the freedom or time to indulge I will get out pen and paper and rough out scenes, scenarios, couples, and the like.  This helps silence some, but usually it just opens more doors of possibility and a new wave comes rushing in.

Take for example the work I started to create the other day.  After a conversation with someone, images came to mind and though I tried to ignore them at first, they would not stop.  Each night a little more would show itself and the images stopped being flashes of scenes and began taking shape into movements and conversations and the feel of the touch of his hand.  Finally, Wednesday evening, I gave in.

Not only did I give in to that character that was seducing himself into creation, but also a whole new series idea was birthed out of it.  By time I felt exorcised of the leading man I had written over 17 pages!  Needless to say, I guess I maybe should have started writing when he first came knocking on the door to my creative brain.

There have been those moments when I doubt myself and wonder aloud who the hell do I think I am to try to be a writer and what gives me the right to think I'm even remotely talented.  Then there are nights like the other night where the words flow from me and I realize I am merely the conduit that allows the characters to find life on the pages.

I can never explain how amazing it feels to have all this life spew from my fingers.  I know anyone with a passion can understand that magical feeling, that without a doubt moment when you know, deep in the marrow of your bones, that you are doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing.

In those moments I (imaginarily) throw my hands in the air and feel the wind in my face as I am twisted and turned through until the end.  When the energy passes and I shut my laptop all I can do is sit in awe and be grateful for the gift that for some reason has been given to me.  Not everyone wants what is created from my gifts, but those that do - I hope you truly enjoy the journey of the characters as much as I have enjoyed going along the ride myself. 

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