Shared an idea with my bride this morning and her feedback might have broken my brain. I love this woman. Can’t think of a good title. See aforementioned comment about broken brain.
Been very much off my writing game lately, especially my poetry. Steadily getting back into the swing of things. Today, this poem just came spilling out. Cringing at my misspelling of the word forest. I actually spelled it right the first time, then the second time my brain malfunctioned and I ended up going back to “correct” myself. Bleh. Anyway, onward!
Was thinking this morning about character agency in storytelling and how powerful a force it is. Remove it and you remove the heart and soul of the story. That got my thinking about agency in our lives. How do we express it and what happens when we do?
A Breath of Agency
Happy birthday, Dad.
No title for this one comes to mind–though feel free to suggest one–just memories of a good man who’s done more than his fair share for me.
Feeling very meta today about the act of creation and the way we play with ideas and stories in our minds. I’ve had one in my head for half a year now, more or less stagnating, watching all my other ideas pass it by. Then a few days ago I had a new idea, one that would be a stretch to make work. It had heart and structure but lacked originality. Then came the old idea, which I think has a great concept but the characters weren’t leaping out at me and the story wasn’t wanting to shape. They came together like they were meant to be. It’s tough letting go of pieces of each of them, but the new thing is far more powerful and I can’t wait to bring it to life.
Feeling rhyming and whimsical this morning. Also, I’m going to need another notebook for my poems. I thought this new one would last me until the end of the year. There’s always something fun about filling in that last page though.
Chapters and Choices
Lots of changes around me lately. More to come I suspect.
Yesterday’s poem written before a long drive through some yucky weather. Too heavy to be called mist, too light to be called rain. Just wet enough to make the roads fun to drive on and seep into everything.
This morning’s poem brought to you from that “I don’t know where this is coming from” part of my mind. I’m honestly not sure if it’s a form of insight or simply my attempt to process everything that’s going on lately in the world. There just seems to be so much…
Numbers and Noise
Today was a day of many small victories coming together for a greater whole.
And we’re back to our regularly scheduled poetry!
My part time job as of late has had me staying up later than I’m used to and as a result sleeping in later than I would like to compensate. It’s a trade, as so many things are. Worthwhile so long as it’s in the pursuit of turning a dream into reality.
To Be Nocturnal