Jun 2013
Let your mind flow.
Let the thoughts swirl.
Let your words come out of nowhere.
Out of nowhere.
But somewhere something happened.
No cliché figurative flickering fluorescent set you off, no slight nudge sent you *******; no, you've been lit on fire. You don’t know it, but you’re burning. But that flame is not the one nestled neatly in your grandmother's fireplace, nor the uniform petals licking up at underside of her tea kettle. It is a forest fire, raging and impatient, intent on turning over and devouring every leaf of your inspiration until you let it out. From far away it might appear to be merrily orange, but underneath it's blazing blue and white.
Maybe you can feel it. A burn like that would leave a mark.
Those stories that crackle from your tongue are going to tear this world down and replace it with one of their own. The energy they create is irresistible. It will consume you like old newspapers in an autumn bonfire.
Yes, it will consume you, just like the search for the perfect word. Remember? That tickling on the tip of your tongue that will not go away, not in hell, until you can name it. You’ll wrack your brain for hours, sometimes days, as though it were a cluttered attic and in the most hidden corner huddles your word, grinning impishly when you stumble upon it. That quest that devours your mind again and again is only the beginning, the end, the in-between, the pinpricks of color on your canvas that make up your painting, your masterpiece. And it will be a masterpiece. Your beginnings and your ends and your in-betweens will become a wonderful whole.
But, a warning. The window to your mind is not the lens that everyone will look through. Those whose opinions distort their sight will tell you your beginnings are simply weak scaffolding, your ends have loose threads that remain unsewn, and your in-betweens are only the unoriginal fluff of a muddled mind.
Their words, however, are only kindling for your fire.
Watch them burn.
They will learn to respect the writer.
Let the thoughts swirl.
Let your words come out of nowhere.
Out of nowhere.
But somewhere something happened.
No cliché figurative flickering fluorescent set you off, no slight nudge sent you *******; no, you've been lit on fire. You don’t know it, but you’re burning. But that flame is not the one nestled neatly in your grandmother's fireplace, nor the uniform petals licking up at underside of her tea kettle. It is a forest fire, raging and impatient, intent on turning over and devouring every leaf of your inspiration until you let it out. From far away it might appear to be merrily orange, but underneath it's blazing blue and white.
Maybe you can feel it. A burn like that would leave a mark.
Those stories that crackle from your tongue are going to tear this world down and replace it with one of their own. The energy they create is irresistible. It will consume you like old newspapers in an autumn bonfire.
Yes, it will consume you, just like the search for the perfect word. Remember? That tickling on the tip of your tongue that will not go away, not in hell, until you can name it. You’ll wrack your brain for hours, sometimes days, as though it were a cluttered attic and in the most hidden corner huddles your word, grinning impishly when you stumble upon it. That quest that devours your mind again and again is only the beginning, the end, the in-between, the pinpricks of color on your canvas that make up your painting, your masterpiece. And it will be a masterpiece. Your beginnings and your ends and your in-betweens will become a wonderful whole.
But, a warning. The window to your mind is not the lens that everyone will look through. Those whose opinions distort their sight will tell you your beginnings are simply weak scaffolding, your ends have loose threads that remain unsewn, and your in-betweens are only the unoriginal fluff of a muddled mind.
Their words, however, are only kindling for your fire.
Watch them burn.
They will learn to respect the writer.
