Sitting on the couch this morning, trying to decide which story I want to write next, and two separate ideas I've been playing with for awhile collide. Two very different stories. One funny, one sad. One light, one heavy. One about life, one about death. And I realized they were the same story.
Isn't it amazing how our brains work? Give them color and emotions and words and experiences, let them stir it all around for awhile, and then see what they've put together. See what beauty they've found hidden in the darkness, what hope they've found on the other side of despair.
My poor brain has to do this work while my body floods it with anxiety and depression. But it does it anyway. Down in the dark, humming along, just waiting for a break in the clouds. And then it shines. And I get to bask in the glow of a wonderful, warm story idea just waiting for me to put it on paper.
I do love this job, and somehow, I need to find a way to remember this feeling when the clouds come back.
Peace,
Chris
Isn't it amazing how our brains work? Give them color and emotions and words and experiences, let them stir it all around for awhile, and then see what they've put together. See what beauty they've found hidden in the darkness, what hope they've found on the other side of despair.
My poor brain has to do this work while my body floods it with anxiety and depression. But it does it anyway. Down in the dark, humming along, just waiting for a break in the clouds. And then it shines. And I get to bask in the glow of a wonderful, warm story idea just waiting for me to put it on paper.
I do love this job, and somehow, I need to find a way to remember this feeling when the clouds come back.
Peace,
Chris