Notebooks are piling steadily by the foot of my bed, on and around my desk. Pens are scattered through out the house trailing inky stains of things I have imagined. I am inspired by a word, the word buried itself into my head and over time has bloomed into several words, a scene filled with roaring thunder, or perhaps a silent night filled with horrors of the dark. The idea has bloomed inside of my head and it grows like a weed, twisting and weaving it's way throughout my brain. I fall asleep to conversations of my characters and my dreams are filled with them racing across the pages I am trying to write as they embrace their destiny, their adventure filled fate.
Writing a new story is like wading through a storm at sea. It is so beautiful, entrancing and magical and yet you know that once you cross the line and swim towards the eye, once you write the very first line, the very first word you are lost. It is a dangerous thing falling in love with the story you write, it hurts you when you see everything they must go through to reach the end of the tale. Starting a book is the hardest part for me because I know I am going to fall, I am going to become ensnared by the conversations the characters have in the bleak midnight hours. I am going to become entrapped by the landscape and the haunting memories that are glaring at the horizon. But I don't care I swim towards the first page anyways. I know the risks, the dangers of having a love for something that is so consuming it feels raw and bright.
I think someone once called it passion. I am passionate about writing, it makes me feel good. It transforms me from a seventeen year old girl into a elvish warrior, or a robot. I can become a Greek God, or a witch. I have lived a thousand lives through reading and with writing I plan to live a thousand more. But it isn't just about escapism, writing to me is about the power of creating something. Creating something so incredible that you can feel every single word resonate within you.
As I begin to embark upon the new journey awaiting me I try to take a pause. I try to just live in the regular world doing regular things, but to be honest I am so much happier with my nose touching the notebook as I scribble out words that stream from my head to the paper. My eyes get crossed as I try to keep up with the way my pen is forming each letter. I love fictional things, I love the art of storytelling, the caress of each syllable of beauty and mystery against your eyes.
I love little things in every day life inspiring me. I love the leak in the bathroom sink by my room and the way it echoes into my head as I fall asleep creating the rhythmic beat against the ceramic. In my head instead of rational thoughts I can hear the heartbeat of Theo steady and clear. I can hear his youth, his vitality inside my head. Through the leaky faucet I can hear his unsteady laugh as he tries to diffuse a situation, I can hear his voice hoarse with anger and sleep when he awakens to news that rips through him.
I am inspired by the way the little boy down the street learns to ride his bike, never failing to climb back on once he has fallen. He ignores the scrapes and bruises that are forming on his knobbly knees with a goal in front of his eyes. I am inspired by that determination as I see flashes of a warrior ready to fight until not only the battle is over but the war has been won.
I love the world of possibilities that is resting at the turn of a page or the scribble of a pen. The hope that fills the chest of a child as they fall in love with a character for the first time, the giddiness that comes with happy endings and the heartache that is incredibly consuming when you reach the end of a book and there is no more.
Writing is like a gateway drug(1) to the impossible , it shows you things you didn't expect and makes you feel alive in ways you didn't know were possible. Like a Phoenix the passion of a story burns through you, turning you to ashes as you say goodbye to one tale but then bursting forth with a new flame as you see the beginnings of a new friend.
I write and write and write because a voyage filled with uncertainty and undiscovered territories are awaiting me to join them. I write because Theo needs to speak and because Simon is cranky in the mornings.
Hopefully soon I will get to share some of these adventures with you, but for now my muses are demanding my attention. I am off to embark upon a frightening, exciting time with characters that will surely steal bits and pieces of my heart.
1- Hugs not drugs. Or books not drugs. Just no drugs. :)