My initial foray into fleshing out a non-poetry-laden story proved to be rather telling. An unanticipated gush of tears brought me to an abrupt halt. "Where in the world did THAT come from?" was my rapt response. I stepped back and slowly turned away.
Just how involved in an idea does a writer usually get? In my case, deep enough to shelve it for a while. I excused this, in part, by virtue of the fact that I am also developing a sequel to Echoes.
Besides, it's far more pleasurable to sail aboard an airship, no matter what misadventures it may lead to, than to revisit even the most passive scenes in what is my own personal, embellished story.
For one thing, my poems don't make me cry. At least, they haven't yet. And whenever I feel drawn to work on that other "story," every time I approach it, a new idea for a poem arises and steals me away.
This leads me to think that either my mind is in self-defense mode and deliberately intervening, or that I've just discovered a whole new method of stimulating inspiration.
I think I'll let this play out for a bit, and allow the tug of war within do it's work. Eventually, I will get back to those less than pleasant memories, and when I do, I'll have a box of ready tissues on hand.
Just how involved in an idea does a writer usually get? In my case, deep enough to shelve it for a while. I excused this, in part, by virtue of the fact that I am also developing a sequel to Echoes.
Besides, it's far more pleasurable to sail aboard an airship, no matter what misadventures it may lead to, than to revisit even the most passive scenes in what is my own personal, embellished story.
For one thing, my poems don't make me cry. At least, they haven't yet. And whenever I feel drawn to work on that other "story," every time I approach it, a new idea for a poem arises and steals me away.
This leads me to think that either my mind is in self-defense mode and deliberately intervening, or that I've just discovered a whole new method of stimulating inspiration.
I think I'll let this play out for a bit, and allow the tug of war within do it's work. Eventually, I will get back to those less than pleasant memories, and when I do, I'll have a box of ready tissues on hand.
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