On occasion, I find something that really inspires me to write. Or at least kind of makes me want to write.
Let me back up. Remember how I've been a ravenous book devourer since I was knee high to a pig's eye (which is possibly the most disgusting idiom ever)? Well, the last little while I haven't wanted to read anything.
And by "anything" I mean "anything substantial."
I've been gnawing on Stephen Hawking and all sorts of taoist/physics books for the longest time. These sorts of books are great and mind-expanding, but I got to the point where all I could think was, "If I have to read anything profound ever again...I'm gonna puke."
So I gave up reading entirely, which is a shame because the written word and I are really quite good friends. But like all good friends, we needed a break or someone's jugular would be ripped out.
Pretty soon, though, I got around to missing my wordy friends. So I wanted to read something without actually reading anything. Here's how it went:
[Enter BECCA, lovely and brilliant, crosses to the BOOKSHELF]
Becca: Hullo, darlings. How've you been?
Becca: Well, Jane Austen, how about we start with you?
Jane Austen: You could, if you so desired, although I'm not entirely sure that I recommend it.
[BECCA suddenly finds Ms. Austen's sentence constructs too convoluted for her shrunken brain]
Becca: Nope, none of that. Agatha Christie?
Agatha Christie: *is silent*
Becca: This is alarming. Anyone? Anyone?
Twilight: *from the depths of hell in Becca's mind* Beeeeeecca....I'm heeeere.... Read me, Seymour! You want something easy....brainless.....sickly sweet.....
Becca: Never! I'll never give into your evil powers!
[Cut scene because I'm bored with the scriptyness]
Yeah, I never actually considered Twilight as a legit choice of reading material. So I read some Shannon Hale instead. And The Hunger Games.
Oh my fantastic. That cured my reading lethargy for G-E-W-D, gewd.
And now I'm all itchy inside. The premise of The Hunger Games was similar to an imagining I had floating in my head way back in fifth or sixth grade. I have so many ideas floating around in my head---
If only I had some semblance of self control or discipline. I'm awful at making myself stick with something. The only time I get essays done is when I have a strict deadline that means life or death. Making myself write a story is another kettle of ponies entirely.
I enjoy writing; really I do. I love my characters: Alpha and Hazel and Emily; Nissy and Mairi and Aleksander; Ingrid and Ivory.... I love their situations and who each of them are.
I'll write a short story. Something small, with a beginning, middle, and end. Or maybe just one chapter. Just one....
But one that means something.