In therapy, we say that talking freely is the gateway to letting those fettered feelings verbalize and slip out, a way to release the words we've tried keeping hidden, perhaps even to ourselves.
I write, and write, and plan, and structure, and write. I decide my characters will travel in these directions and calculate what will be of importance to them.
But as I sit down to write, after a few pages, I forget my plan, and my characters forget my place as their Creator. They run off in other directions, behave against my wishes and feel things I would rather they didn't.
When I pick up my pen, I open the gateway, and though many beautifully crafted words emerge, safely nestled in their defenses and their theatrical makeup, just as many rogues slip out, wreaking havoc with my Piece and with my Peace. They hold up a mirror to my face, and I can no longer hide. I turn the lights off in my room, but my word processor glows.
I run with it now; I can always label it fiction later.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I like this. Very much. And all I can say is that my own sentiments echo yours.
ReplyDeleteYou rock, darling. Label it whatever you like, as long as you keep bringing on the good stuff.
ReplyDelete♥
ReplyDelete