At any given time, I have hundreds of stories in my head flitting around. But then once it is time to grab one out and spill it on paper, I can’t find a single one. They all dart back into dark, unreachable caves and I’m left with shattered sentences and “let me think about it”s.
Where do they go? They can’t have gone too far.
What can I do to bring them out? Sometimes it’s as simple as an “a ha!” moment or a quick chain of thoughts. Other times, it’s torture. I’ve got point A, but where’s point B?
Even when I write the stories that I have lived . . . they hide from me.
Sometimes I will think of a very specific thing and I want to memorialize it in writing. I start with the bigger story, give it some background, but then . . . it’s gone. Where did it go? Will it come back?
Sometimes it’s frustrating. I just want to get it all down when I want it to get it down, and I can’t. And then when I am not capable of entering it into permanency, the ideas they are a flowin’.
But I’m really not complaining. At least there’s something up there . . . I think.
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