I seem to be in recovery mode, slow with little brain, as I catch up on everything I’ve let slip in the last few months. I’m determined to write, but writing eludes me. No sentences emerge, no words flow.
What I do have are moments, thoughts, brief flashes of “Oh, that’s what I need to work into that story.” They come at random, but more when I meditate or read or listen to a teaching that pulls me deeper, or when working on writing skills – reading about grammar, at the moment ( yes I really am.)
I make notes, and know what I need to do next in a growing number of stories, but still, the words elude me.
So I rest, and do other things, and let the ideas play, and find inspiration in odd places, like the fritillaria blooming in my garden. It’s so wonderfully snake-like – there’s got to be a character there.
Perhaps this is what I need – rest and inspiration – to prime the pump. If I remember this, I’ll feel less like I’m wasting my time, and more like I’m incubating.
Maureen
Comentarios