The trees are older, gnarled and bent, but then so am I. The years had not been kind to the forest where I once played. I walked deeper into the shadows, my eyes searching for signs of life. The dark red stood out like drops of blood among the dark green leaves.
I stood, my hand extended with a handful of those special berries, and hoped my childhood friends would return. In minutes, the air shimmered and my cheeks warmed as I felt the first flutter of wings. The years melted away, the faeries hadn’t forgotten me.
Me? I prefer peace and quiet. When doing dishes give me a Country Music song to get the job done, but as for writing, I need quiet to hear my characters speak. I wish I could write for hours on end, but my life is probably much like yours, so I write when I can. A line here and a line there.
Does the love of words inspire you?
Poetry is one of the most beautiful forms of writing, but as you can see, not my talent. I wish it were. However, words do inspire me. Whether a limerick, headline in a newspaper, spoken by a child or written in a good thriller, I love them all.
Words inspire me when appearing on a blank page, as if by magic, one letter at a time they form a sentence. The sentences soon become paragraphs and before long a story fills the page.
What else would you call it but magic?
Not the magic of secret spells or potions but of stories produced from thin air and plucked from my crowded mind.
The fun part is grasping the words and throwing them at the page. The hard part is rearranging them into an interesting work worthy of a reader’s time. So that’s my goal. To write something worth reading.
Thanks for listening to my rambles today. I need to find some order for all the words floating around in my gray matter. Sometimes a little rambling helps.
Talk to me.
Leave a comment about how you manage to capture words, producing your stories, finding inspiration and keeping the magic alive.
She laughed, tossed the horoscope into the trash and picked up the bowl of Halloween candy as the doorbell rang. The bowl crashed to the floor, “I sent a message,” the Grimm Reaper said.
She rose from the basket as she arrived at her destination. Behind her the axe-man disposed of her decapitated body and wiped his sword ready for next traveler on the road to hell.
Guys, you can copy and paste your badges to your website if you want.