My second story in the 52 Story Pick Up is a little odd bird about a girl leaving Arizona to find herself. What makes this a challenge for me is that I've never been there, so my trusted atlas which doesn't even have a cover anymore has been my best friend through it all so I can get the main character from point A to point B literally. I can't say the story is a failure just yet, but I never like it when my own interest is waining before I have a chance to figure out what it's about.
That's where the road trip came into play and I love that about writing. Here's the girl and here's her stuff and all of this sucks, so I put her in the car and she (and I) haven't looked back since. What was a painful "what is going on" kind of rocky beginning brought about some really good stuff and in spite of hitting the 2000 words count for the 52SPU (that's short for whatever the heck it is that I'm doing here) I'm still not done with this character now that she's crossing the border into New Mexico via my atlas.
We'll see where she goes, until then let the breeze of heat and sand flip your hair into tangles as you hang your head out the window.
Story 1: Dream Stealing?
I woke up with this dream stuck in my head that gave way to my first story in the 52 Story Pick Up. I don't know about you, but I have mixed feelings about writing from dreams. Most of the time you feel like you're working on a 100 piece puzzle with only about 10 pieces and this massive sense that the rest of the puzzle was really, really good. Other times I feel like writing from dreams is stealing from the part of my brain that hasn't yet rotted from too much chocolate or from never being able to get a bath uninterrupted since my daughter was born.
All of this is beside the point. My dream involved the following tidbits: four miniature giraffes, slapping floorboards with your hand, and magic. Oh, and a "bad" guy that favored the looks of the voodoo villain from Disney's The Princess and the Frog. Of course, when I wrote my story it was much more fabulous than these puzzle pieces and I never for a minute second-guessed the direction of my story. Yeah, right.
The crux of the matter is this: I wrote fiction again. I gave myself the much needed break from the bill paying freelance work and got to flex some of my more creative muscles again. I haven't titled the new story yet, which is odd because that's normally my first steps, but I'm not concerned. After about five rewrites this magic giraffe, floor slapping story might just be a good little read.
All of this is beside the point. My dream involved the following tidbits: four miniature giraffes, slapping floorboards with your hand, and magic. Oh, and a "bad" guy that favored the looks of the voodoo villain from Disney's The Princess and the Frog. Of course, when I wrote my story it was much more fabulous than these puzzle pieces and I never for a minute second-guessed the direction of my story. Yeah, right.
The crux of the matter is this: I wrote fiction again. I gave myself the much needed break from the bill paying freelance work and got to flex some of my more creative muscles again. I haven't titled the new story yet, which is odd because that's normally my first steps, but I'm not concerned. After about five rewrites this magic giraffe, floor slapping story might just be a good little read.
That funny feeling that death may want to meet you: the birth of 52 Story Pick Up
I turned 32 this past week. I didn't do anything special other than eat cake after every meal and take a little time off from my freelance work, but by the end of the day I found myself feeling, well, very mortal. I got this thing going in my mind that said, "hey, where in the hell is your life going?" And then the idea that I may die tomorrow flooded in and that my legacy I leave to the world would likely be a small one. Now that's okay, I don't expect grandiose things; I'm well beyond my college "conquer the world" mindset, but I want to leave something behind that reflects my work here on this rock. With this in mind, I created a plan...
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