Friday, February 20, 2015

Running, Always Running

Step after step
running in the darkness
music in my ears
the breeze pulling back my hair.

I am actually longing to go running now. Even in the darkness, which I've never been overly fond of. I long to make my way down the trail I have frequented and just go until my legs can no longer move forward. I just want to run, let this world around me dissolve, and the world inside me open its doors and allow me entrance.  To the stars, I say. To the stars.

When I close my eyes, I can see the nebulae birthing solar systems, planets teeming with life: lush plants, rushing green waters, small fish and animals rushing to and fro.  The world is tangible. I can touch it, smell it, feel it beneath my running feet.  I want to see it all.


Monday, February 16, 2015

A little water and a lot of work

Normal life is always ongoing. That is definitely a fact. I now have a 2 year old and a 3 year old to wrangle daily. This fact is definitely eye-opening and sometimes makes me wonder why I don't just write children's books for now. They're so much shorter.

We are working to improve our home in small ways that seem so big to us. And we finally have a dining room table on order which, for my writing, will change everything. At the moment, I have no desk or surface to write on.  If I'm writing in a notebook, it is on my lap with a book as a stabilizer. If it's on our laptop, then I have to hold the laptop on my lap, using anything I can find to rest it on so it doesn't burn my knees.

I am excited to have a little station to set up shop. When we first moved to our current abode, I never thought that not having a desk would bother me, but it's become a nuisance when you have little ones attempting to crawl all over you when you are trying to do anything, forget being creative.

At least now, I know my writing notes won't immediately go flying when said children are attempting to climb into my lap and onto my back.

In writing world, much has happened, but much has not. I had such a wonderful breakthrough occur a few weeks ago, and wrote and wrote and wrote. Then I put down my pen, succumbed to sleep, and life picked up in fast pace, and I was eyeing my writing with anxiety.

I feel I need a good bonfire, music on my iPhone, and solitude to collect my feelings.  I've been sorting through my brain and finally putting to paper, but the paper is frightening.  Seeing it in print scares me.  What if no one likes it? What if, within my brain, it all makes sense, and once it is on paper, it doesn't translate?

How does one find that magic door that translates it flawlessly from brain to paper? I swore I found the door and walked right through at points in my life, but I always seem to be starting from square one every time. It is intimidating.

Music calms me, at least.

I think I need to follow my mentor, Mr. Bradbury, and just pick up, begin, and never let myself stop. It is time to make it an important piece in my life. It was always that "important" thing that got put off so readily. I need to bring if forth and allow it to grow.

All the love and dreams are wonderful, but without sunshine and a little water, a seed can never touch the sky.