Life has been good this past week, settling into a happy balance and plans for new adventures. The transformation I have felt has had the surprising affects of new perceptions as well as changes in my internal structures and the way in which I function. There has been a real change not only in my perspective of who I am but, a freedom that I have never experienced before. Most notably, I have experienced an inspiration that is far greater in scope than I have ever had.
At work this past Friday, in a moment of quiet, I wrote on a blank piece of paper the name of my Coven.
The Weavers of the Moonfire
I looked at it and saw the faces of my coven-mates. As I continued to look at the words and admire how beautiful they are, I saw the title of a novel. Not only that but, I saw the world in which it takes place, the characters, the plot and the vision that I want to share.
In the past I have written poetry, character sketches and short stories. Some of which I am quite proud of. I have tried to write longer pieces of fiction as well but, the stories have always died within the first few pages. The larger work of imagination has always eluded me, until now.
I think that stories have to tell themselves and the writer is a conduit first, then a craftsman. I have always been so focused on the responsibility of crafting something of value, and crafting it well, that I have not been able to let the process, the story itself, take on a life first.
In the past, I have felt the need to constrain, analyze and construct. In the past few days I have been able to let the secrets of the story remain hidden until they present themselves to me through the act of writing. I can see glimpses of them in my peripheral thoughts but, I do not feel compelled to catch them and examine them in bright light under a glass in detail. I can allow them to remain hidden until they are ready to become seen. And I am enjoying the adventure and the discovery immensely.
It is the difference between wandering in the woods or sitting alone in the windowless silent room in the second grade doing multiplication, because my teacher felt that I was distracted, (she didn’t understand that I could daydream anywhere and that quiet, gray prison created a stronger need to do so than the classroom…she meant well but, an abacus would have been more helpful).
I am enjoying the feeling of living without chains, or cages, or locked doors. I am enjoying the freedom of life without constrains.