As I sat down to write the post I thought, "This is great. I need to do this every day. I need to make time for writing outside of my fiction projects." Other random, obscured thoughts circled my mind in a series that eventually formed some sort of long drawn out idea or concept. One after another like a flip book of procrastination. All my mind wandering halted when I released I wasn't writing anything down. I also do this when I'm drafting. Think, and not write. I'm forward
I kept sitting down to write this essay I promised for a collection. The theme of the piece needs to boil down to one thing: my relationship with my body and mind. Easy, right? *chokes* When I took the assignment I was excited to dive in, to be honest, and maybe even help someone. What do we do with our minds and bodies while we have them? What is done to them? How do we grow? People often struggle with this—I sure as hell do. I mean it’s kinda the whole life deal, isn’t it?
Character- Jayme, an anxious freelance writer with young kids, is still trying to carve out a space for herself in the industry. Stasis- Autumn and impending holidays are nearing. She’s getting back into the writing work flow. Of course, it isn’t going as fast and smooth as she’d like it too, but she’s realigning her ducks after putting a major project down due to lack of sight. She wrestles with some confidence and focus issues but is dedicated to finding flow. Trigger- One
Fall is approaching. The kids are back in school. My house is quiet. Cinnamon is suddenly more appealing. Our planet seems to be crumbling down around us. I spent the summer writing scenes that never needed to exist for the story I was telling because I thought I was writing another one. I discovered the amazing world of paleo-style cooking in a nobel attempt to be healthier and have a hobby outside of words. I'm currently sitting at my desk ready to crank out some smaller pi
I sat down at my desk with the mindset to do some character work. The plans were in place, and enough thoughts were bouncing around in my head that there was no question about the amount of material. I spent the whole weekend filling up my mental bucket. I had certainly lived life for a few days between all the hiking, gardening, family time, and mini-breakdowns. I put my fingers on the keys and wrote a generic, easily deletable first sentence then stared at a blinking cursor