I promised Michael, and myself, that I would write the writing piece for this newsletter. Which is ironic, since I do not feel like writing, nor do I feel like cheer leading or even think about writing. I have absolutely nothing to say, and nothing I want to put into words. As a matter of fact, all I want to do is to take things in. To reflect. To be still. To remember the stories I always loved best.
I'm looking at the leaves falling - dancing in the air, being done for the season, having just one more circling waltz before they lay themselves to rest. I'm listening to the soundtrack of Xena the Warrior Princess (which is surprisingly good.) I watch YouTube clips from Dr. Strange featuring the ancient one, and of my favorite scenes in The Lord of the Rings trilogy (Gandalf is stopping the Shadow demon by the bridge over and over, and then falling, as all wizards must fall into the abyss sooner or later.)
I don't want to write. I don't want to make something up. My head is filled with stories from the summer buzz. Filled with stories other than mine. I just want to watch the leaves fall, and remember the stories.
Sometimes "writing" is like that. We don't produce. We seep in the essence of story-telling, of our favorite tales, to find a place to start over. And we can remember what good story-telling is really about: the best, the worst, the corny, the flamboyant, whatever did strike our heart strings in a certain moment in time. What strikes our heart strings right now?
It's autumn and I want to watch the leaves fall. I want to seep in the stories I always loved, to listen, to watch and to remember whatever needs to be remembered. I've got a strong feeling some really neat writing is going to come out of this.
I'm looking at the leaves falling - dancing in the air, being done for the season, having just one more circling waltz before they lay themselves to rest. I'm listening to the soundtrack of Xena the Warrior Princess (which is surprisingly good.) I watch YouTube clips from Dr. Strange featuring the ancient one, and of my favorite scenes in The Lord of the Rings trilogy (Gandalf is stopping the Shadow demon by the bridge over and over, and then falling, as all wizards must fall into the abyss sooner or later.)
I don't want to write. I don't want to make something up. My head is filled with stories from the summer buzz. Filled with stories other than mine. I just want to watch the leaves fall, and remember the stories.
Sometimes "writing" is like that. We don't produce. We seep in the essence of story-telling, of our favorite tales, to find a place to start over. And we can remember what good story-telling is really about: the best, the worst, the corny, the flamboyant, whatever did strike our heart strings in a certain moment in time. What strikes our heart strings right now?
It's autumn and I want to watch the leaves fall. I want to seep in the stories I always loved, to listen, to watch and to remember whatever needs to be remembered. I've got a strong feeling some really neat writing is going to come out of this.
This text was first published in the October Newsletter Magic, Writing and Marketing. If you want to sign up - go to: www.theechoworld.com
Photograph by Sofia Karin Axelsson
