There are no days in life so memorable as those which vibrated to some stroke of the imagination.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
It’s early morning, the icy cold air feeling like needles on my face as I walk, searching for inspiration. For the light touch of my imagination, for some unexpected gift, camera in hand half looking, half dreaming, I looked up…there it was…
At first, I thought it was a dream, the flutter was so brief it could have easily been my restless mind. Something made me look up again. There on the left against the wall of the sleepy house I saw it coming back to feed again and again. Who knew hummingbirds were still here this time of year? Smiling at the odds of finding such a beautiful treasure, under those peculiar circumstances, seeing it as a good omen taking me in the right direction.
How is NaNoWriMo going? did you ask. The recompense of my writing is still carefully hidden under the words I write. Typing them however is getting somewhat easier as I become a bit more trusting of the whole process. It still feels like pain though, the subtle lingering kind. In some strange way I know this is how it has to be, at least for me. So I keep at it, amazed by the whole experience and wondering how long until it becomes easier…
- NaNoWriMo: It’s a marathon, not a sprint (michaelmcmullen.wordpress.com)