Today is an exciting day! I've started writing again.
With everything going on of late, I've been a little focused on other things at the moment and haven't done any writing for months. Creativity flows with difficulty when one's mind is filled with concern.
For weeks now the writing bug has been hacking at my brain with a toothpick, greatly desirous of worming his way into the hippocampus to unlock my subconscious and release this building energy. After a splendid morning at church singing my lungs out, a lovely lunch provided by my thoughtful son, and then a well deserved nap, I awoke yesterday afternoon with renewed energy and vigor.
And also a really bizarre storyline begging to be unleashed like a pack of sled-dogs during the Iditarod.
So armed with several heart-pounding movie soundtracks, I've worked away on several pages to come up with the beginnings of a short story. The whole thing is still in its infancy, but I'm hoping that if I work diligently this week I'll coax it from the cocoon.
Who knows? Maybe this idea could eventually become the fodder for me to start novel number ten.
My critique group will shoot me.
Showing posts with label creativity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creativity. Show all posts
Monday, May 11, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Dark Recesses of the Night
The creative juices are finally flowing again.
Yeah, like I finally have time to THINK again - hello!
The other night I had a really interesting dream that was so enormously engaging and intriguing that when I woke up, it stayed with me most of the day. I knew immediately upon awakening that it would make a great storyline if I could figure out how to make a full-scale novel out of it.
Getting back into writing again has my blood pumping.
Well not that I'm actually writing anything at the moment, just having the time to think about it and let the brain relax and wrap around an idea when it hits.
You know, it's kinda funny now that I think about the dream. There's several of my books that got their start from a dream I had. Sometimes I take just one nugget from that dream and create a whole story from it, while at other times pretty much the entire dream worms its way out onto the page.
The story I finally finished earlier this year actually had its beginnings in the dark recesses of the night. Ended up that I didn't even use that scene in the story, merely the essence of the character. Heck, it was even a year or two after I had the dream and wrote that scene out that I got back to it and created "Running Into The Darkness".
Was very pleased to have actually finished - but the story has a sequel I'll need to get started on someday.
So for now I'll go ahead and pound out the first scene or two that I've got floating around in the grey matter and see where it goes. Perhaps I'll have some submissions for critique group again in a few months.
In the meantime, I'll keep on dreaming and hoping for that best-seller idea to pop into my subconscious. Then it'll be up to me to actually do the typing.
Man - osmosis would really be good here!
Yeah, like I finally have time to THINK again - hello!
The other night I had a really interesting dream that was so enormously engaging and intriguing that when I woke up, it stayed with me most of the day. I knew immediately upon awakening that it would make a great storyline if I could figure out how to make a full-scale novel out of it.
Getting back into writing again has my blood pumping.
Well not that I'm actually writing anything at the moment, just having the time to think about it and let the brain relax and wrap around an idea when it hits.
You know, it's kinda funny now that I think about the dream. There's several of my books that got their start from a dream I had. Sometimes I take just one nugget from that dream and create a whole story from it, while at other times pretty much the entire dream worms its way out onto the page.
The story I finally finished earlier this year actually had its beginnings in the dark recesses of the night. Ended up that I didn't even use that scene in the story, merely the essence of the character. Heck, it was even a year or two after I had the dream and wrote that scene out that I got back to it and created "Running Into The Darkness".
Was very pleased to have actually finished - but the story has a sequel I'll need to get started on someday.
So for now I'll go ahead and pound out the first scene or two that I've got floating around in the grey matter and see where it goes. Perhaps I'll have some submissions for critique group again in a few months.
In the meantime, I'll keep on dreaming and hoping for that best-seller idea to pop into my subconscious. Then it'll be up to me to actually do the typing.
Man - osmosis would really be good here!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The Music Man
I've been doing some creative exploring this week while my son is gone.
My son is incredibly gifted. He has a penchant for art, writing, singing, and keeps a rhythm like nobody's business. When I was young, I wanted to play drums. For years we've talked about getting him into drum and guitar lessons (and piano which I already own, but he'd rather do drums right now). I've been checking out several great places this week.
Of course, I had to look into the biggest music and instrument supplier to all the schools in town. But none of it resonated with me. It felt rather cold and assembly-line'ish, if you get what I mean. More a cookie cutter than a cookie taster. What I did find was an independently owned shop with incredible instructors who absolutely love music. I think I've hit the jackpot.
Only problem is that this place is all the way over on the other side of town. I work all the way over on the other side of town and live all the way over on this side of town. It's a minimum of a thirty to forty minute drive one way. You know what? It doesn't bother me one bit (except the gas right now - ouch!).
My son is the consummate artist, that creative soul who kinda keeps to himself a bit. In order for the music lessons to truly reach him and keep him interested for the long term, he's going to need an instructor who is passionate about music, patient with questions, and will allow exploration at the soul level. That's where it will stick for him. This place seems to have that quality.
Now's the time to dish out the dough. Gosh, creativity hurts sometimes!
My son is incredibly gifted. He has a penchant for art, writing, singing, and keeps a rhythm like nobody's business. When I was young, I wanted to play drums. For years we've talked about getting him into drum and guitar lessons (and piano which I already own, but he'd rather do drums right now). I've been checking out several great places this week.
Of course, I had to look into the biggest music and instrument supplier to all the schools in town. But none of it resonated with me. It felt rather cold and assembly-line'ish, if you get what I mean. More a cookie cutter than a cookie taster. What I did find was an independently owned shop with incredible instructors who absolutely love music. I think I've hit the jackpot.
Only problem is that this place is all the way over on the other side of town. I work all the way over on the other side of town and live all the way over on this side of town. It's a minimum of a thirty to forty minute drive one way. You know what? It doesn't bother me one bit (except the gas right now - ouch!).
My son is the consummate artist, that creative soul who kinda keeps to himself a bit. In order for the music lessons to truly reach him and keep him interested for the long term, he's going to need an instructor who is passionate about music, patient with questions, and will allow exploration at the soul level. That's where it will stick for him. This place seems to have that quality.
Now's the time to dish out the dough. Gosh, creativity hurts sometimes!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Letting My Hair Down (and other strange anomalies)
Having a creative outlet is as essential for me as...well, breathing!
In my younger days I pursued piano, flute, drama and ballet (does horseback riding count as a creative outlet?). Later on I took up singing and picked up again on ballet after a hiatus. During what my son and I call the "difficult days", writing became my one and only creative outlet. I poured myself into it as an incredibly cathartic experience.
When I was young I used to plink around with my parents' ancient typewriter (can't imagine doing that today), writing stories, poems, and even a mystery screenplay. Teachers would comment on my vivid writing style, but I never thought of writing as anything more than an assignment.
As an adult, by chance I took a short-term creative writing course offered through a local community college, and through that offering several of us decided to put together a critique group in order to share our writing and receive constructive criticism (key word - constructive). Though we've been through ebbs and flows over the last six years, we now have a small, tight-knit group that meets twice a month. I live for those second and fourth Thursdays.
Over the years, our little group has maintained pretty much the core of "oldies", our original membership created from the class. We all come from various backgrounds, are of varying ages, and we all even have different favorite genres and specialty areas of writing we like to pursue. A common genre isn't what keeps us together. I think it is actually the mutual desire to help pull the best from each other's natural abilities. We've developed a trust factor that even when we receive a difficult critique, we can know that it is meant as a help and not as a hindrance.
Of course, it also helps that we all let our hair down during our meetings (at least those of us who HAVE hair). Maybe that's why we've slowly been pushed toward the back of Border's music department where no one has to hear us (or at least see us). I suspect management has hired bodies to pretend they are other critique groups in order to take up all available space and encourage us to leave. Last night they even hired someone to pretend they were building shelving in the music department, revving up the drill and blocking out the sound of our voices. Heck, next time we might just have to meet in the storage closet!
I don't care where we meet, as long as I can continue to let my hair down twice a month. It's become essential to my well-being. It also keeps me breathing, you know.
In my younger days I pursued piano, flute, drama and ballet (does horseback riding count as a creative outlet?). Later on I took up singing and picked up again on ballet after a hiatus. During what my son and I call the "difficult days", writing became my one and only creative outlet. I poured myself into it as an incredibly cathartic experience.
When I was young I used to plink around with my parents' ancient typewriter (can't imagine doing that today), writing stories, poems, and even a mystery screenplay. Teachers would comment on my vivid writing style, but I never thought of writing as anything more than an assignment.
As an adult, by chance I took a short-term creative writing course offered through a local community college, and through that offering several of us decided to put together a critique group in order to share our writing and receive constructive criticism (key word - constructive). Though we've been through ebbs and flows over the last six years, we now have a small, tight-knit group that meets twice a month. I live for those second and fourth Thursdays.
Over the years, our little group has maintained pretty much the core of "oldies", our original membership created from the class. We all come from various backgrounds, are of varying ages, and we all even have different favorite genres and specialty areas of writing we like to pursue. A common genre isn't what keeps us together. I think it is actually the mutual desire to help pull the best from each other's natural abilities. We've developed a trust factor that even when we receive a difficult critique, we can know that it is meant as a help and not as a hindrance.
Of course, it also helps that we all let our hair down during our meetings (at least those of us who HAVE hair). Maybe that's why we've slowly been pushed toward the back of Border's music department where no one has to hear us (or at least see us). I suspect management has hired bodies to pretend they are other critique groups in order to take up all available space and encourage us to leave. Last night they even hired someone to pretend they were building shelving in the music department, revving up the drill and blocking out the sound of our voices. Heck, next time we might just have to meet in the storage closet!
I don't care where we meet, as long as I can continue to let my hair down twice a month. It's become essential to my well-being. It also keeps me breathing, you know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)