I soon realised that computer time had made typing more natural. It allows the Flow to reach its potential. I feel nostalgic about my notebooks, but it would be silly to allow that feeling to become an obstacle.
Anyway, so I'm vaguely working on a novel. But as some of you know, I have progressed to a place where the process, the writing, is the joy. What comes afterwards is, well, afterwards. Published, not published, brilliant, mediocre, even finished or not - right now it's irrelvant. I just write.
I have also been thinking about my own personal strengths in writing, and I think some of my insight into this was sparked off by a lovely thought shared by a commentor to a post on writing. That the writing on this blog has value. (and by others who enjoy specific ideas I talk about here)
Yes, thank you. I needed to hear that. Of course it has value. Even if it's just read by 20 people, even if its just one person that finds worth in one of my many posts - that's worthwhile. Because that's partly what keeps me motivated. I want to write, to explore, and to be of help.
I write because I must, but I'm inspired by the parallel stories of readers, and motivated to continue ranting by just one reader saying - thanks Mon, I needed to hear that.
This has also been especially good for my personal journey, because in healing my Shadow, I needed to come here, write, and not seek to make each post perfect. Not in grammer, not in style....
I have a thought, I write it out, I re-read and sometimes find a message I'm sharing and seek to make that clear enough. But leave it there. To hear that it has value within imperfection, is healing.
And so back to my strengths. Although creative fiction is a joy, I realised a while back and am remembering again, that non-fiction is more natural to me. For those interested, my Mercury is in Virgo (communication - precision, clarity, logic, order, integrity, weaving together details for bigger picture).
Also, I'm seeing the non-fiction pull in the book I feel wants writing.
I have this idea that writers write books (when writing from the soul) because that book wants writing. Whether you believe it's Out There, or, like, me, within you... it's there waiting for you to give it form.
And in opening myself up to non-fiction, I'm sensing that book more and more. I feel its presence, like the name you try to recall that plays tantalisingly on the tip of your tongue. Just....out....of....reach.
I sense it most acutely at certain times. One of these is when I spot a title that interests me, and then, even if I like the sound of it and may even buy it, I deflat just the tiniest bit inside. Disappointed that it isn't THE book.
Birth of Inspiration
by Alejandro Flores
Now I realise, it's the Call. That feeling is my book calling me. Stop looking elsewhere, it says, write me.
But what is this book? What can I have to say that hasn't been said before? Or by 'experts'?
How do I discover it? Uncover it? Unearth it?
Just write thoughts out? Dig them out with my bare fingers? Sometimes uncovering stones, other times a gem or two? Eventually connecting the dots?
Also blogging at Crooked Hooks & chewing on a leaf