Perhaps, I required a cloudy day, full of needed rain, to bring the miracles..as they may be. I was finally able to log into this site. For the past few months, the Universe has been dangling the carrot of “How Bad Do You Want To Write?” as it relates to everything from this blog to screenplays, in front of my face. As I would pull back to get a good look, that da*n carrot would get yanked up into the stars.
This Blog? Well, believe it or not, since I have two blogsites, the default login system would not recognize this one, and I could not post here.
And, while I’ve been locked out from here, my waning professional world has called me to action – in a recent missing person’s case. Sure, very valuable work. But, not my first choice in terms of what makes me happiest. And, then, today, the login for this Blog worked. It’s nice to finally take my shoes off.
Where have I been? What have I been doing? Well, there are writing projects that demand one be present: Follow the Protocols, Do the Work. But, I have been in another world of writing for these past months: The World of: Find the Voice, Speak the Words and Sounds – even if you do not at first understand the language.
The process feels like this, the stack of Stacks I completed in real life recently – Wood like Words:
Sure, I’ve been in a 6-month screenwriting class through ScreenwritingU. But, that hasn’t been what has colored my writing journey.
It’s that, this comic at heart, this serious goofball, longing to be more lighthearted, actually sits in the corner of a dim, proverbial watering hole (with a Shirley Temple), and pretends it’s aged whiskey that will garner some vast insight and unlocked paradigm..a paradigm that allows for a breakthrough – a right turn onto some fruitful biway. And, such an undertaking yielded a gamechanger recently:
I was suddenly somewhere new to me, a winding wooded route that took me to:
Dark Water, Shadowed Trails, Lurking Unknowns
Then, to places that I could not at first, traverse. The foreign landscapes called me down sheer rock faces and up the indigenous ancient ladder of a ghost tribe. I roamed washes and canyons and excavated the cave dwellings of Lost Souls – of my heart, mind, and subconscious — to release the voices that have resided in Invisibility. Thankfully, never wandering the desert in search of Writer’s Water.
I have discovered from within its eye, a swirling mass of wind, dusty mist, and unstable, changing pulses..The F-Meter of my Writing Twister, from 0-5 and back again.
The result of this vortex has been characters, dialog, and plot weaves that tickle and gobsmack this writer.
I will relish your squeals when my words from this trip finally find your eyes and ears. And, the images find themselves perhaps etched to Digital, to score the retinas and gray matter that house the stored images you cherish and berate.
Where have I been? In a writing funnel cloud, waiting for the house to fall. And, Here I Am. I have missed you.
Look for more to come from this Blogger, not too far behind this funnel cloud.