Wednesday, December 5, 2012
"You never struck me as someone who would write that sort of...stuff."
After assuring her I was mostly harmless (props to memory of Douglas Adams), I went on to explain that ideas come and go no matter what I do with them, so why not write them down? It's actually a lot deeper than that. I love the writing thing, as she put it, and am at my happiest when I've been able to feed the hunger a little.
Hmm. This is sounding a little creepy. Maybe she's right to be a little freaked out. I mean, if I, a seemingly normal guy is out there writing zombie stories in the Old West or soldiers storming space stations in orbit around Mars, who knows what her other friends might be doing.
Just keeps getting creepier, doesn't it?
The picture above is a great example of how these ideas come to me. Top left is a Fall shot of the maple in my back yard. Great old thing with stories of its own to tell, I'm sure. Looking up into the undoctored blue sky (I feel compelled to point that out since I'm known for my Photoshop exploits as well) I think stories. A twist here, a crumple there and the details take on new meanings. How could that sky be scary? What would it take for a glance into any sky to bring horror, or wonder. Everything I see is like that when I'm in the zone. And the more I write, the more time in the zone I spend. It's a good place and, like a good piece of software, runs in the background while life rolls along.
What's a guy to do?
The ideas come no matter what I decide to do with them.
I write them down. Maybe you should to.