When I frantically submitted two college applications before running out of the door to catch my car to catch my plane to New York City (as for King’s? I’m in love), I had no desire to write. None. It was like my fountain had dried up in the college essays I’d been hammering out, and going on hiatus from my blog gave me relief that I didn’t have to come up with anything profound (ha) for awhile, at least.
It’s strange, those essays, though I suppose I’m good at them, are like salt water. Unlike my fountain of noveling, editing, and blogging, it’s salt water, and though I can spew it out just fine, it leaves me feeling parched, and then I can’t even do the writing I love.
But the almost two weeks off have given my fountain time to come, and the water started trickling through dry grooves, and ideas for editing Quintessence (oh, I never said. I finished it. In October. Sorry.), and new and old blog post ideas began surfacing.
I had to dam this gurgling stream and get out my saltwater again--I have lots of it to go yet. And I have things that have nothing to do with writing to do, too. Algebra and Physics and Economics and Government.
But writing is pushing at the dam. I re-wrote the first chapter of Quintessence to help relieve that pressure. I brainstormed ideas for the sequel to Quintessence, tentatively titled Dust, for the same reason. Writing this is a quick way of releasing more. I’ve been thinking about it, and I imagine the words bubbling behind my mouth. Not quite an accurate picture, because the words come from my mind and fingers, not from my mouth. But I imagine it all the same. The rushing torrent, not currently abated by the salt water I have to deal with.
Some people might call this bubbling inspiration. It’s not quite the same, though. Inspiration is when I know in a flash the way a scene should go, when a blog post pops into my mind fully grown. It’s when I absolutely have to get something down or I lose it. This bubbling is different. It pushes and teases my mind with half-formed thoughts that only translate into write. Write something. Write something before you explode.
Anything could come from the bubbling.
This time, it’s this.