I've been trying to ignite the creative flow. I had mostly stopped writing as I once did and sputtered out a bunch of blog posts over the years. It's hard to know if that was due to working a lot, adjusting to being a married person, or any other in a series of challenges thrown in the path of my life.
The only real stories I'd come up with in the time I lived in Rochester MN were few and far between, shared with few if anyone, and served as wild imaginary playgrounds like Robert Heinlein had with the magnificent character Jubal Harshaw.
I have done a couple sprints now, as I've felt they represented for me personally, in the form of two NaNoWriMos. I find that just referring back to having completed the challenge more than once makes me look forward to it again. But I can't do that without wondering, pondering, imagining the future of either of those stacks of paper.
One would aptly describe the concept as Meta. Trying to imagine where a fully formed idea and manuscript has to go, to grow toward, to grow into. To become.
I find that I've been attempting to draw myself out of my shell. There are comforts to be had in hiding, but if I keep doing it all the time, I must entertain the notion that I could die while hidden and never be known. There are still stories to tell. I must find the fire inside to tell them. And it's always been there, it just has a will of its own, as anyone blessed/cursed with their own inner flame can surely attest.
Considering counseling or any help of a psychiatric/psychological kind is a wonderful metaphor. Lucy did it so well in the Charlie Brown/Peanuts strips. (Why it was called Peanuts tho, always bothered me. It had literally NOTHING to do with nuts. Why not call it Socks or Bolts or Feathers?)
Going beyond just thinking about crawling up on some shrink's couch, one can attempt to locate and gain perspective on whatever their issues are. And then surmise what the suggestions of any professional might be. Of course this comes easy for someone who was always psychoanalyzing their friends in high school. Turning that lens of introspection on yourself is certainly one path to madness.
Inspiration has struck from various corners of the world this month. I discovered an incredible ragtime musician named Tom Brier playing music from Yoshi's Island and it blew sparks into my soul. I beat the first Portal game after some struggles that only made me feel stupid for a little while. I then came to fall in love with the song Still Alive from the game. I'm now getting to know Portal 2.
So with the inspirations funneling in and the trend toward crawling out of my shell, I've taken the steps I would imagine suggested to me. I just wrote a brief scene of banter back and forth between two faceless, nameless characters that could well fit into either of my NaNoWriMo-vels inspired by equal parts Kevin Smith dialogue and the general wiseassery of my friends at the breakfast table before hi skool everyday.
You know what tho? This time I didn't consign those words, that back-n-forth between two distinct voices in me head while I stood waiting for my coffee to heat up in the microwave...I didn't drop them in a text file never to be heard from again.
Instead, I posted it straightaway to my deviantArt page, tweeted it, and of course that tweet went to my wordpress and my facebook like ka-pow-zap! So this is me poking my head out of my shell. If there are no ill consequences of these developments, I pledge to continue in that direction.
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