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Growing Stories
Writing Happens One Word at a Time
Ideas. Words. Stories.
They ebb and flow, wax and wane, churn and swirl in the midst of life’s chaos.
I feel them. I sense them. I long for them. I long to capture them on the page and create the stories I see growing out of the mist of nothingness all around me.
They are there, surrounding me, and yet they elude me.
Even so, I grasp them gently and plant them like seeds in my imagination, nurturing these seeds in search of roots, their promise ripe within my hands.
As I press them into the dirt with hope and expectation and anticipation, words take shape and begin to fall around the ideas, like rain, showering down nourishment and allowing the ideas to take root.
I sense the connections of ideas and words, growing together, vines and branches, soon to bear the fruit of story.
But it is as yet too soon.
They need more time. To pluck them before they are ready is to loose them from the soil of story and creativity, uprooting them and causing them to wither and to wilt, eventually dying and returning to the chaos of life from where I first discovered them.
