No.74: Write in my book
No. 74: Write in this book....
This book:
I totally bought it on a lark at Anthropologie after Christmas. Having a December birthday always gets me a good discount at Anthropologie for the one month that I seldom buy myself anything. But this year I planned. Made a point of going after Christmas and seeing what was on sale and using my coupon. And what did I buy? This book and a new coffee mug because I inadvertently left my favorite ones in Colorado. (Also from Anthropolgie...)
I bought the book because...why not? Writing prompts are good. Makes me think.
And then I sat down to write. Some of the pages are divided in half, some in quarters. The ones that are in quarters I think "Well, I only have to write a tiny bit. This morning I'm busy but I can squeak out a few minutes to write."
But you know what? It's never a "few minutes". I get into it, lost and then surface an hour later. I think this is true whenever you create, whenever you are totally into what you are doing.
So I am writing in it a couple of times a week, trying to get myself into a routine. I think I might be better off heading to Starbucks or somewhere that is not my house. I need to go to my studio that I don't have. But so far I have just been at my kitchen table or in my bed, scribbling.
And what have I written? Here's a sample.
The prompt: Set something on fire.
(Well, you just never know what will pop into your head. Honestly, I totally understand what Michelangelo meant when he said "Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." The stories are in there, they just need to be put on paper. And maybe I have a tiny evil streak....)
The match sparkled, sizzled and then settled into a slight flame. She hesitated.
"Will I need more?" passed through her mind before dropping her one lit emissary.
Hitting its target, there was a brief flash before the lone match died out.
Or did it?
Smoke wafted.
Her nose crinkled as the combined odors of accelerant and hair filled the air.
Finally.
He'll be gone for good. Or so she thought.....
It's gonna be a fun book.
This book:
I totally bought it on a lark at Anthropologie after Christmas. Having a December birthday always gets me a good discount at Anthropologie for the one month that I seldom buy myself anything. But this year I planned. Made a point of going after Christmas and seeing what was on sale and using my coupon. And what did I buy? This book and a new coffee mug because I inadvertently left my favorite ones in Colorado. (Also from Anthropolgie...)
I bought the book because...why not? Writing prompts are good. Makes me think.
And then I sat down to write. Some of the pages are divided in half, some in quarters. The ones that are in quarters I think "Well, I only have to write a tiny bit. This morning I'm busy but I can squeak out a few minutes to write."
But you know what? It's never a "few minutes". I get into it, lost and then surface an hour later. I think this is true whenever you create, whenever you are totally into what you are doing.
So I am writing in it a couple of times a week, trying to get myself into a routine. I think I might be better off heading to Starbucks or somewhere that is not my house. I need to go to my studio that I don't have. But so far I have just been at my kitchen table or in my bed, scribbling.
And what have I written? Here's a sample.
The prompt: Set something on fire.
(Well, you just never know what will pop into your head. Honestly, I totally understand what Michelangelo meant when he said "Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." The stories are in there, they just need to be put on paper. And maybe I have a tiny evil streak....)
The match sparkled, sizzled and then settled into a slight flame. She hesitated.
"Will I need more?" passed through her mind before dropping her one lit emissary.
Hitting its target, there was a brief flash before the lone match died out.
Or did it?
Smoke wafted.
Her nose crinkled as the combined odors of accelerant and hair filled the air.
Finally.
He'll be gone for good. Or so she thought.....
It's gonna be a fun book.
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