Have you ever been in a room with people and tried to start a conversation? A simple question. A mere, 'How was your day? or What are your plans?'. Four simple words that can then spark everything. However, what if the person you are directing your words towards, does not hear them, or ignores them? Those four simple words. Four tiny syllables seem to stretch and expand into an immense force. They hang above you like an ominous brewing storm. They are fueled by anticipation, worry, question, and emotion. They can take the shape of awkwardness or passive-aggressiveness. They are powerful.
Why am I talking about words? The most fundamental element of this blog. Without them I am powerless (not insinuating of course that with them I am powerful). They make me, me. The other day, I had an awkward conversation. A lull in which my very own words hung over me like a mythical sword attached to a thin thread. I hadn't said anything shocking. I merely asked a simple question of my friend that she did not register. Not her fault. I sometimes speak too quickly or quietly .
Alas, this post is not going to be entirely about my awkward conversation pauses. Words change me in another way. Sometimes I experience a jolt. Like a lightening bolt crashes into me from the storm cloud of words that follow me. A flame of inspiration that must be redirected before it tears my mind apart with crashing thoughts. I can not explain why these flames happen nor control when they happen. They are random occurrences that result in pages dripping with the fresh ink of my pen, in handwriting much too small and feverish to read easily. They result in a new creation, new life, new characters, and new stories. After the jolt leaves me, I stare in wonderment at the result in front of me. I am truly blessed for this.
Sometimes, though, I can will the jolt to strike me. This usually happens if I have procrastinated on a paper or if I am staring at the blank blog form for this site. I throw words around in my mind until fragments are formed. These fragments stir together until sentences are created. These sentences tumble into one another until the one crazy idea forms. The spark. The gunshot indicating the start of a race that my fingers struggle to keep up with as my spits the thoughts out. It is truly an exhausting process, but it also very rewarding. I have been given this gift of words for a reason and I shall use them until I discover why. I may not be the next Shakespeare (thanks to the Doctor Who episode I watched today) or the next J.K. Rowling/J.R.R. Tolkien, but I love writing and intend to pursue this passion until my fingers stop typing or my mind stops sparking.
Thank you very much. Part 2 of Focus is now uploaded. Look in the documents folder on my creative writing page.
Yours Truly