Within the Realms of Creation

Deep within my thoughts, within my soul, I feel it, ever stirring; ever dreaming; always creating. I have been speaking with my husband about my ideas. Yes, he knows my ideas. No, you cannot hold him ransom for them. He does not know everything, only the highlights.

I've spoken with him about three specific projects, some of them much more polished, one extremely rough.  It takes time to chisel them into their forms within my mind before I really apply them to paper. Like using a map, I must know where I am to go when I sit before those blank pages and begin to spin my words onto them.

I had a teacher in college who desired to take everything about writing and turn it on its head, including knowing where you were going when you began.  She required us to challenge ourselves by beginning with a simple sentence and then simply continuing on from there, not knowing where the story was going anymore than the audience. It made for some very poetic and moving words, and I learned so much about myself within that semester. I learned of my capabilities and my true desires, dreams, and wishes.

However, it is a method I only use in discovering and in foraging new lands within myself. It is such a great mystery and it will definitely be a practice I always come back to. It will bring the rivers of inspiration flowing into my mind and allow those stories to take root and grow within me.

Once I have a story in hand, I choose to work at it continuously until I feel that the form is complete within my mind. Until I am satisfied that the paper will not slow it down, nor hinder it. I'm just not sure if I'm a conventional writer. In the sense of outlining and mapping out in front of me. We shall see.

I did the normal mapping and outlining with this current project long ago. But it has since evolved into something much different, much more cohesive and original, yet familiar. At least, in my mind, this is how I feel. When I am satisfied with the sculpture in my head, I will chisel it out on paper and leave it be for a time, then come back, edit, and it will be done. Then I will be able to move on. Then I will be able to let it go and allow it to breathe on its own.

I may have said this before, but I don't care. Such words are worth reiterating: I have decided that I will write what I wish to read; what I feel is the empty void currently on all those bookshelves. I will fill in those gaps until I feel that the bookshelves are flowing fit to burst, and then I will be satisfied to fill all the other empty spaces I find with words.

That is all I have to say.