It’s been a long time since I’ve sat and just wrote without much care or thought behind it. The simple act feels good and right, a little like what God must’ve felt after he’d created tulips and turtles. And man and woman, a husband and wife. Slips of memories have been weaving in and out of my mind today, and I can’t say that they’ve made me feel sentimental, but they have made me feel like I’ve already had a full and rich life. And there’s only more to come. Anticipation and discovery. Walking down roads shaded with trees. Green gold light filters though the leaves. A gentle wind blows, the breath of God, and I am not alone.
I want to get back to the almost frantic creativity I possessed as a child. Pictures of stories would race through my mind so quickly, I could barely get them down on paper. Now, I have to sort though all of the mud and debris littering my mind. I want my characters to be real to me again, real enough to talk to, real enough to laugh with, love and empathize with.