An idea pops. It dangles there, fascinating.
You are in the shower.
You haven't a pen, a keyboard, or anything to store it and keep it safe. But it's there and you want it. More to the point, you don't want to lose it. Your mind has shifted to how you will keep it.
Panic sets in. You want to press it out onto a page and lock its essence down. You do your best to reengage and follow the original impulse of the idea while you rinse soap suds from your hair.
Finally...FINALLY!!! You are able to sit and write.
The idea that was so spectacularly clear and forthright now eludes you.
Words line up ready for inspection. They, the words, are ready to fire down on the page. And some do. Too soon! They sputter down. A premature ejaculation that feels foolish and wrong. Those words ain't right!
Watered down, you feel the idea slipping away. Draining down the plug hole of lost ideas, the idea hiccups and giggles.
The idea, while you were in the shower panicking, watered itself down. It knew it would lead you to the keyboard. Or pen. It decided it didn't need to stick around. Maybe a little residue, a build-up of scum, remains plastered to the rim of your mind but the clarity of it, well, that swirled around, building up a tempest inside of you.
You desperately cling on. The idea now bucking. Uncontrollably. Fiercely, it gallops inside the writing realm. Challenging you.
You stare at it. The challenge. Look squarely at it. Into it. The abyss inside the writing realm taunts you as you watch the idea submerge into its depths.
"Keep still, blast you!"
There is no way to pin it down, pen it into existence. Not this swirling, bucking, fiercely wild thing. So, you ease off, loosening the tightness in your shoulders.
It's time to sit, metaphorically, at the entrance of the writing realm with knees tucked under you and bow down.
It's time to let go of the challenge, the battle, and surrender to the unknown. Inside the unknown is where your god, Creativity, lives.
You thank your shower idea for its work in bringing you to this point. The panic that you felt so strongly is fluttering, butterfly-like, now at the tips of your fingers, because in the real world, you are sitting with your laptop.
The real world is disappearing from your consciousness. You are now inside the writing realm. How you moved from the entrance to being inside is a mystery.
It happened but it didn't.
A strangeness that is unexplainable however much you might try. Trancelike, you wander inside and words tap out onto your screen. Unseen but known. The words live. They share. A story emerges creating new worlds, new characters, old characters - friends.
Little Voice takes your hand. She is your guide. She is there to whisper in your ear and so the adventure, the exploration, the dance, the dictation of words that reveal a story fall from one realm into another.
You bridge the gap between the unknown nothingness and breathe life inside a new creation. It slowly builds, takes shape and before you know it there is a new work of fiction ready for the world.
Cover photo by Vale Zmeykov on Unsplash
Text breaker created in canva using their free elements.
Dreemport gif used with permission from @dreemport & @dreemsteem.
