Writing is a magical process, you sit there, doing nothing and go into the ether of your mind. All the monkey thoughts of things that happened today and the day before jumbling around along with things that happened years ago. You thought you’d let those go but find out they’re still there and maybe think you can make a story out of one of those experiences. Maybe.
You dig and dig and dig and dig until you get to the pearly gates that contain every possible idea you ca ever think of. New, old, saving for later, keep thinking about but never going to use, thought about it but someone else came up with it, thought about it but you’re too lazy to pull off something that complex. All types of ideas.
You take a deep breath and push open the gates, waiting for the flood that doesn’t come. It doesn’t surprise you at all, you haven’t been to this place in your mind for quite some time. You just been doing whatever it is humans do with their time: work, school, home playing video games or watching porn or watching Netflix.
At first it is dark and damp, your footsteps echo throughout the hall of ideas as you look around for something interesting and so far, no prospects. That’s alright, you know how this goes. You sift and shuffle through until you find something that’s not too easy but not too complicated to pull off. Something that doesn’t require a lot of plotting and structure, something where you can pull most of it out of your ass and still come out alright.
You find one and put it in your pocket, then you come across another one and put that one in the pocket of your mind. Suddenly, they start coming steadily as they gears start turning and the imagination begins to light the hall. All the dark and damp and unimpressive ideas now have an allure to them. Each and every idea brimming with potential, with possibility, with life, death, romance, action, adventure, and all the little things that make stories worth writing.
You stand at the center of it all and let the energy pass through you, you ascend to the stars and let the literary Gods grace you with their magic. You feel a supreme confidence in your abilities, in your skills to write one of the greatest stories of all time. Your body acts before your mind can catch up and before you know it you’re writing.
You come back to reality and see your fingers typing away at the keyboard, you don’t know what you’re writing but you know you’re writing something. You decide to let it flow and take you where it will, because if you’re writing like this, in a way you haven’t written in a long time, then you know the story will be worth telling.