I joined a zoom writing class last night. Time to write that first novel, creative fiction. I actually have no idea on a plot or storyline, I’m trying to be spontaneous. It’s a Covid-19 thing, along with cutting a fringe. I know the fringe thing will grow out but will my novel manifest itself, or, will short stories be my thing? I’m leaning that way already, even that might be a milestone, and looking at my posts, one might agree.
Years ago I started writing a book based on my life story and it ran for at least a hundred pages. It was flowing out of me, then it stopped. I remember the exact moment. I felt drained, so I went to make a peanut butter sandwich for energy and inspiration. Nothing, not one word followed after that.
Why, you may ask? Well, I don’t think it was the peanut butter but I was still living the story, and to tell you the truth, I was over it. I kept it for years, hoping to continue one day, but it didn’t make the journey with me. The bin beckoned. Now, I’m ready to go, purging the past and moving onwards. It wasn’t that interesting anyway, you didn’t miss much.
However, the class participants are interesting and rather varied but the trained assassin has definitely caught my attention. He looks like he’s in his seventies somewhere, maybe he was in the Vietnam War? My natural curiosity and intrigue in having such a vibrant character amongst us to observe, will fuel my appetite and inspire me to write …. I know it!
But I won’t fall for the peanut butter sandwich again, just in case?