So, I feel a lot has been happening in the world, but I am removed from it. I mean I have not heard about all of the world’s problems over the past few days, but I am certain they are still there. Besides H1N1, no escaping that one... School has sucked me in deep.
I have had ideas, but no time to write. My ideas for my next short story are accumulating, but without time they are doing only that. The more time the ideas bounce around up there, the better they will be I feel. Time can let me see and think about them from different angles. When I say think, I mean the kind of thinking that happens at random unpredictable moments, on the bus, falling asleep, in the midst of an unrelated conversation when maybe I should be paying attention… After such moments if I am lucky, they end up on random bits of paper. If I am even luckier those bits of paper are not lost.
Why do I write them down? Well ideas are very clear when they happen and during the moment I feel I won’t forget them, only I know better. In a deeper sense, why do I write them down? Why do I write anything? Not certain. Partly to tell a story that is. Partly to flex creativity because it craves to be.
The creative process is intriguing and if anyone has comments or ideas on it then feel free.
Also, just a reminder that there will be a thing, the HBM launch with good music and such at Burritoville, 2055B Bishop Street, Friday, November 13 at 8. I imagine it somewhat like a house party.