Writing in the darkness is easy. You're sitting in a room surrounded by the absence of light, coffee- or whiskey, in hand where the only light in the room is the glow from whichever device utilized.
I remember time when writing in the darkness involved no light, no glow, no technology. You relied on how quickly your little hands could create the world unfolding in your mind- pausing for hand cramps, and being distracted by how messy your handwriting gets when the inspiration is pushing out at the tips of your fingers.
We've come a long way- typing 70 uninterrupted words per minute gives the brain time to catch up- space to create the story thats been nothing but thoughts up until this moment.
Its the effortlessness of the backspace and tease of delete that you need to watch out for - they can remove your last thought before you even know it. Wiping out a story line, a life line, within a moment's time. Then there's the editor that lies within.... she's so critical and keeps track of how far off track you've gone or how long its taken you to write that perfect sentence.
About that perfect sentence, its one within hundreds of the book- but you care, and craft, and find the perfect wording to reflect the images in your mind. Going through each punctuation carefully, making sure the pauses in your minds eye conversation convey exactly the timing of whats being said without losing all meaning in the dots and lines and shapes......
Really, the story is the easy part...right?
Painting pictures and scenery with words, making sure you capture the pink and blue of the sunset just as perfect as you see it-or the years of layers of dust and dirt on the train in the subway. Those are the pieces that bring the reader to you; the pieces that paint your story in their mind.
Its the best thing about books, the traveling to unknown worlds and lands and meeting people or creatures that you never imagined existed... its why I read and why I write. Sharing emotion that could touch someone deeply, change their lives, be the catalyst that they needed to take that step that they've needed to take for months or years.
The sentence you so carefully crafted healed another layer on top of old scars, making the pain die down a little bit- letting them know they're not alone in how they feel in a quite anonymous way.
This is why I write. To tell the story that someone, somewhere, needs to read.
Its funny how time affects a story- when I began this exercise it was darker in the world, more people were sleeping. Now the gray light of a hazy sunless sky bursts through the big, not quite, bay window - and I feel less alone, as if more people have joined my story as they wake from their dreams....
isn't that what a story is... just a dream?
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