Part of the mania of being a writer is that you never know when inspiration- translated a complete obsession to write down and brain dump an idea- will hit you.
My two year old son asked for a story at bedtime- I did not want to get up and get a book because it was late and so I made up a story. When I was done- he said it was a good story, and promptly nodded off. Technically I went to sleep but I left my brain on.
I woke up early- too early and had to write the story down, which I did with my fountain pen and paper from my printer.
What happened was Dr Seussian in complete iambic pentameter.
I am not a children's story writer and surely I am not a poet. But when I was done- 6 pages later I realized my brain had done me a dirty.
It had taken some serious social and societal issues from my past as a social worker and from my own personal family struggles- and had turned them it into anthropomorphic animal characters. I re-read it a couple of times out loud to my family- and realized my subconscious was giggling in the back room of my mind.
This is how creative writing occurs- not with our waking, rational mind- that is the fodder of journalistic integrity based on facts not folly.
No, true creative writing comes from that back room- and when that door opened, I could not concentrate on anything else. I had to write it from beginning to end. Then I typed it from beginning to end. Then I had my first cup of coffee and pondered my sanity- I created rhyme? A children's story with a moral undertone as a mirror to the atrocities of what happens to children caught in the court system and between warring families? WTF?
Now what?
I can't draw worth a spit, so do I need an illustrator? Do I just pitch it somewhere and hope they pair me with an artist? Do I submit it to a ....uhh.... poetry contest? (seems very foreign to me because I NEVER saw myself writing that sort of prose).
Help me folks- I am in new territory here.
No comments:
Post a Comment