What Does Your Writing Process Look Like?
I have tried to take a firm hold of my imagination, to wrestle with it until a story was told, but the moment I try to organize my thoughts a simple breeze sets them skyward. I have ideas. They are shy. Behind corners they curl themselves into small bundles, waiting for quiet. In the dark they dance, their steps unsteady yet determined. Sometimes I even hear them sing.
My writing process is sporadic. Undisciplined. A manic child who finds moments of zen, but is distracted by wind chimes. I have given up trying to be the author and now enjoy being a reader. I write when a feeling crawls inside of me and begs to be dissected. My muse does not ask for permission.
It is nice to surprise yourself.
The flight of a butterfly. A lazy, but nearly elegant motion; at the mercy of the wind, delicate to watch and equally exhausting: that is what it looks like.