John Muir said “The Power of Imagination Makes Us Infinite”.
If that should be so then I just may live forever.
Please take note: If you do not know who John Muir is, it would be suggested that you do some research.
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I have been working on a short story for this month’s update but instead this [aforementioned] quote came to mind, and everything else seemed so trivial. So, the story was erased, and now I have begun again here.
In putting together ideas for a short story, I realized some things. I could write about whatever I want.
I could write about a meek girl that writes with a purple pen that is not good for cursive. Yet she loves to write in cursive script.
Or, I could write about that - script vs. print and the beautiful art of writing itself.
I might decide to write about what it feels like to break up with a boy and furthermore, from a writer’s perspective, including deep emotion and visualizations.
I could use big words. Big words that people don’t usually use.
Damn. I realized, it feels good to be a writer.
The really great thing about being a writer is writing about writing, and other writers.
So many before us, and currently, had/have so much to say that deserves accolades in the purest fashion... The truly rewarding stories to tell are the relative tales of stories already told.
The truly awesome part about being a writer is writing like Mark Twain or April Deakle.
You get the point here, right? Writing is about writing like other authors, no matter their surnames. There is reading involved - fiction and non fiction, poetry, reading and writing, research and studies. Writing is all about these things and most importantly it is about writing... and writing, and writing, and writing. In other words, lots of practice, no matter the plot or outline.
Henceforth, this story need be nothing more than a tale about a goldfish named Harold that moved from one pond to another and was forced to make new friends. We could go on to discuss the future of the goldfish based upon his parents’ decision to up-root him in the middle of his most crucial schooling years. The really fun part about this story is metaphorically speaking about school.
This goldfish, Harold, never made friends easily and now he is forced to switch SCHOOLS. Get it? - - - Fish swim in SCHOOLS… but this is a story about a goldfish switching schools. Haha. That would be a lame story though.
Instead we could go more along the route of the original tale I had set to tell about a meek writer that loved chocolate. She loved chocolate so much that she had no self control and every time she completed an accomplished piece of work she would eat chocolate. She became so successful that she grew obese and henceforth, depressed. Her stories became dreary and sad and nobody loved her books anymore.
Her chocolate cravings eventually ceased as her accomplishments grew less and she lost all the weight she had gained and became the most beautiful princess in all the land.
Wasn’t that a fun story? Way better than a goldfish named Harold - sorry to all of you that were looking forward to the ending on that one. We could say (again, metaphorically) that Harold fell in with a bad crowd and ended up too close to a fisherman’s net. He was caught and flayed up for dinner at the King’s table. The point is, the practice is done. It is written. And that is good.
See also, this other great voyage into storytelling. Notice how I have incorporated the King and the Princess from two separate stories? Furtheremore, If you read Charlottezweblog.blogspot.com, you will learn more about the Queen (Charlotte the Turtle). There you may learn more about the rest of the ‘court’ as well… including the King (Trapper the Dog), and the two cats, the jester and the prince. Obviously, the fish tale is over and done… but there are plenty more tales to tell. This princess has yet to finish this quest.
As always,
Stay Tuned!
P.S.
… Is it obvious that I’ve been reading children’s literature lately?
