I don’t usually write out lines for my books or stories. I have done it before, but it is usually the exception rather than the rule. My plotting and planning usually all take place in my head with out me having to make much of an effort. Daydreams are where my ideas usually take shape. Those random moments of staring off into space thinking “What if…” are where my stories take their first breath.
No daydreaming means very few new ideas. Imagine a bleak landscape charred and blacken by fire. The ground cracked and dry from lack of moisture. Heavy clouds darken the sky and thunder threatens but no rain falls to quench the very palatable thirst that hangs in the air. That is how my creativity has felt lately. (Obviously I have made that first step toward hydration, otherwise I could not have just described how I’ve been feeling.)
Last night I sat on the steps and stared at the stars. (As you have probably deduced, this is a favorite past time of mine whenever I get the chance.) It always seems to refresh that inner well that I reach for when I write. Mostly because the night sky has always inspired a since of awe in me. Clear nights are wide open possibilities. Hundreds of thousands of stars that are out of my reach but still within my sight. I look up and I dream.
And eventually those dreams fall like shooting stars onto paper, in words that others can (hopefully) understand, so that they may dream too.