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It has occurred to me lately that writing might not be what I'm meant to do. Even that clumsy sentence is proof that writing is a bit of a struggle for me. But I need to write. Story ideas surface all the time. Most ideas never take root. A few rough chapters, a couple of character and plot exercises and an assessment of how important this story is to me, is usually all it takes to throw an idea away. I keep the drafts, of course, but I never feel guilty for not revisiting them.
A story or better yet, a character, needs to consume me. If it doesn't now, then three or so years working through revisions probably won't go so well.
Summer is my most creative time of the year as far as writing goes. The long, lazy days bring me back to my childhood on Prince Edward Island where all ideas form. I've been dreaming up a plot. A character. An event. A setting. I'll be heading to PEI in a few weeks where one beach walk will yield all the sensory details I need for an entire book. It's been a fun draft to write. I know how the story starts. I know how the story ends. I know the characters.
Now I just need to pour through the draft...let the words come...allow the memories to trickle onto my keyboard.
I'll keep you posted.
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