When a story idea comes to me, it pops into my head like a bolt of inspiration, seemingly out of nowhere.
The details then begin unfolding in my mind’s eye, like I’m watching it on a movie screen.
I can feel an energy rising up through my body, as if it has awoken something deep inside of me. Like this story has always been a part of me.
Like it’s a part of my soul.
As I run for my phone or journal to capture the details, a sense of urgency arises. Must get these words on the page before they disappear into the ether.
My fingers hit the keys, my pen hits the paper and I’m off, downloading as much as I can in that moment. My fingers, my pen, gliding across the page at warp speed. The details of the story now pouring out of me.
As the words hit the page, a dam has been broken.
There’s no turning back.
This story is now mine. It follows me everywhere.
Nagging at me in the background of my life.
Waiting for it’s moment to pounce.
And overtake my existence.
It will not rest. It will not let up.
Not until I’ve let it out.
The whole story. From the first word to the final one.
An imagined vision brought into the physical reality.
Dream life or bust,