Bunny Watching

I’m watching a bunny watching me. The bunny is sitting in the garden, at the base of the pear tree, in the little bunny-sized divot in the earth the bunny settles into each morning. I’m walking on my treadmill in front of the window, pretending to write while I watch the bunny. Rabbit. Hare.

It’s not fully grown but these guys get big – long. They’re a bit scary when they leap across the road. So we call it a bunny, to emphasize the sweetness.

Will this lead to more bunnies in my stories, the way I like to add crows and apple trees? Maybe a really big hare. Hmmmm.

Maureen

Apple Blossoms

Playing With Story

I just wrote 2 1/2 pages of a new story. I have no idea what it’s about, but ah, that feels good.

I’ve been playing with exploring story through writing, and sometimes fall into something totally unexpected. This is some of the deep magic of story, when the story has its own idea of where it’s going, and my job is to play along and let the story emerge.

This story began from a writing prompt I read today, and a photo that caught my interest yesterday, and now I have an intriguing beginning and no idea of what it’s about or where it’s going or why the characters are who they are, although one is already quite clear and the other is emerging.

I have no idea if this will develop into anything – well, it will, because it’s bursting with energy.

But I have no idea of what it will become, or when. And that’s part of the magic of writing too, like the magic of babies. So I’ll sit with my baby and nurse it along and see what it grows up to be.

Maureen