Words, they just start dripping falling down like rain, first one then another. They keep coming in a deluge, before you know it a paragraph is written there in your mind, and you cannot wait to get out of traffic to start writing everything down. The words, they tumble in your mind over and over again. You have an idea, a paragraph that could be used one day, some where, some time. It is something that will be written down, filed away and saved for later.
You press on the accelerator trying to get home that little bit faster. The words play over and over in your head, so perfect and so beautiful that nothing else really matters aside from getting home to write them down. As they play yet again, a character speaks up, ‘Those words are mine’. The truth of it all hits you like a ton of lead. The words are the character’s and you realize everything that brings them to be true for the character and just how important those words are. You realize how they will be used, how they will craft and form not only the life of that character but everyone else involved in his life. You not only have the prefect paragraph, you have a character associated with it, and the start of a potentially wonderful story. If and only if the words play right, but you know all you have to do is write them, so you do. Ignoring dinner and hunger, you submit to the words and you write, you write till you can at least stop, albeit briefly, as the words they keep flowing. As long as you seek them out there they are falling out onto the screen choppy and rough. There are no commas, there are hardly the right number of periods. It is possible you’ve said a particular word far too many times but it matters little as the words are on page, they work, they are right, and once cleaned they will be perfect, at least that is the hope.
And this, this is the life of a writer. Or, at least it is a glimpse into my life.
Funny thing is, the inspiration all came from the red break lights of the cars in front of me on the highway the night before. It was like the red blossomed in front of me, from one car to all cars and it was just visually striking. It took me a moment to realize that those red lights meant something, and I needed to put on my breaks as well. Afterwards, my mind wouldn’t let go of the line ‘Red blossomed before me’. It wasn’t much till tonight where it morphed into another visual and those afore mentioned ‘perfect’ words.
“Red blossomed from her chest, it spilled over and filled her white shirt. It took me a minute to realize that the red should not be there, and wasn’t something pleasant, as everything else in the day had been thus far. “