Isn’t it funny how you can try to run up the same hill infinite times, but it’s not til you give up and head in another direction that you succeed? I’ve been struggling to rework a story idea, first as a graphic novel, then as a webcomic and currently a written work. It’s been like trying to sprint through a tar pit. I have read, researched and meditated, waiting for the answer to appear. And my muse is silent as the crypt.
Then 72 hours ago, a short story idea occurred to me. This one is practically writing itself. The concept keeps snowballing, and I think I may have enough material to eventually turn it into a full length novel. My veins run with adrenaline and I write down notes often. I feel…purpose, and a direction.
You can try to steer the boat [of life], but you rarely know what’s around the next bend. I think that means the navigation of your life is something that’s never completely in your own hands. Call it divine or call it chaos, it still means you don’t always get to pick the destination. For me that means it’s time to let go of the wheel and grab hold of my pen, for all it’s worth.