I seem to get there slow. I try to quiet my mind, all of that anxious noise needs to go. To my island; yes, I like it here. This place is peaceful, none of that Lost stuff; no smoke monster or polar bears. I sit on the sand, dry and warm above the rushing of the waves. Sweet flowers. Relaxing. No bills, no job, no illness. If you're a worrier like I am, this takes some effort, but I just try to stay on the sand. This is my island, no one else is allowed for now. I can play in the sand, feel it between my fingers and toes. Remember how fun the beach was as a child? The warmth feels good. I never have to go back to work(I can fantasize, okay?)or think about my credit card bill. I am relaxed and content. If I could spend the rest of my life on this island, with no worries, what would I write about? Would I write at all? Is the pressure off? I never can explain easily why I write, only that I've been writing my little stories since the age of nine. I thought it was fun. I still do, but I also understand the work aspect of it. I know when it starts feeling like a job, but I plow through to get to another fun part. Starting and finishing the plowing is a kind of self-discipline, and it feels hard and lonely, like digging a grave by yourself. I'm tempted to take a nap, but the words don't write themselves, so I keep on. I get in The Zone. Every creative person has a Zone, and its a beautiful, exhilarating place. You're kicking ass and taking names. The little engine that could write. Wow! You wrote that much? Good for you!
One of the challenges of writing fiction, especially science fiction, fantasy, or horror, is in the process of creating fantastic characters and plots that have little basis in reality, but making it all seem real on the page. Those exotic aliens who are trying to repair their spacecraft so they can go home or the ancient vampire telling his life story as well as the young wizard who goes on an enchanted journey have to ring true, an authentic music has to come from the writing. Without it, bland and unoriginal. So the writer's job is to find that melody, a soundtrack of words, to create their fantastic world.
I seem to get there slow. I try to quiet my mind, all of that anxious noise needs to go. To my island; yes, I like it here. This place is peaceful, none of that Lost stuff; no smoke monster or polar bears. I sit on the sand, dry and warm above the rushing of the waves. Sweet flowers. Relaxing. No bills, no job, no illness. If you're a worrier like I am, this takes some effort, but I just try to stay on the sand. This is my island, no one else is allowed for now. I can play in the sand, feel it between my fingers and toes. Remember how fun the beach was as a child? The warmth feels good. I never have to go back to work(I can fantasize, okay?)or think about my credit card bill. I am relaxed and content. If I could spend the rest of my life on this island, with no worries, what would I write about? Would I write at all? Is the pressure off? I never can explain easily why I write, only that I've been writing my little stories since the age of nine. I thought it was fun. I still do, but I also understand the work aspect of it. I know when it starts feeling like a job, but I plow through to get to another fun part. Starting and finishing the plowing is a kind of self-discipline, and it feels hard and lonely, like digging a grave by yourself. I'm tempted to take a nap, but the words don't write themselves, so I keep on. I get in The Zone. Every creative person has a Zone, and its a beautiful, exhilarating place. You're kicking ass and taking names. The little engine that could write. Wow! You wrote that much? Good for you!
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