I just looked up at the sky.
Great revelation, right?
I saw the ocean.
I saw the baby blanket for my nephew when he was five days old.
I saw the haunting eyes of my long-deceased father.
I saw Spanky and Our Gang . . . don’t ask!
I saw Sunday drives with my Mom and Dad.
It’s the same for you, right?
That’s how a writer’s mind works. We tend to see things and connect those things to real, or imagined, events, people, and places. Color becomes memories, or emotions, or whatever . . . they are not merely colors.
A SLIGHT SWITCH OF GEARS
I was watching a documentary the other day about teaching creativity in schools.
Can you really teach creativity? I guess so, but I have to tell you my heart isn’t fully behind that guess. I’m not completely convinced that creativity can be taught, at least not the type of creativity it takes to paint or write or sculpt or play something that is exquisitely beautiful.
But then maybe I’m just full of it, which is entirely possible.
This is a random blog this week. It’s going where my mind leads it.
“Pick up your damned tools, Bill, when you are done working with them.” Those words were spoken by my father after he had tripped over a hammer I left on the garage floor. Those words do not do justice to the emotion behind his comment. LOL My dad had a temper and he was not afraid or hesitant to unleash it if he tripped over a hammer.
Funny thing is, those words are still with me today. It’s one reason why I’m so anal when it comes to putting things away after I use them, which I do and have been doing since that day back in 1964, and those words are the reason why I’m so organized during my work day and in handling so many different tasks during the week.
Words like that are great fodder for writers, as are events, as are emotions spawned because of certain events or words spoken.
Randomness! I warned you earlier.
MORE RANDOMNESS
I cry every single time I watch an episode of “This Is Us,” and I cry while watching “The Voice.” I’m a sucker for human interest stories, and I’m a sucker for dramas which show the humanness we all share. I guess you could say I’m an Empath, although I hate labels like that. I do, however, feel deeply things that other people are feeling. I see a young girl on television telling me that singing means everything to her, that it is her way of remembering her mother, who died when the girl was eight, and man, that kind of stuff is a gold mine for a creative writer. I know what she feels. Losing my father when I was nineteen is still one of the defining moments in my life, so yes, when she cries I cry.
And eventually she will make it into one of my novels, or short stories, if not her then a character like her, or the spirit of what she said…the humanness of it all!
Time to end this randomness!
Thank you!
Bill
“Helping writers to spread their wings and fly.”
Billybuc
Artistry With Words 