1+1=1...& sometimes 3

Well hello again! It seems like forever since I had a minute to write here, even though it's only been a few days. But life never stops, and over the past week it seems like it's made a special point to shove some problem or another in my face just at the precise moment I think I'm finally getting to sit down and write.

So while I haven't actually written anything, I've been thinking a lot about my "litterforts". Inspiration is all around me here in Georgia, in a way that it wasn't on the beach. Not that the Outer Banks are less inspiring in general; in fact, many writers have been inspired by trips to those sandy beaches. (Nights in Rodanthe, anyone?) It's just that after being immersed in the salt air and sea grass for so many years, it becomes commonplace, everyday.

But here, everything is new, and completely different from a geographical aspect. Looking out the window, I see more trees surrounding me in a twenty foot radius than I would see on twenty miles in North Carolina. And the land is constantly moving up and down, from little hills to the majestic mountains that form the backdrop in shades of blue and green for this little storybook town. And everywhere there are little fingers of water reaching out of the ground, turning into tiny brooks and streams, running over rocks and making little waterfalls, something I could stare at all day.

One of my stories, Story #2 to be precise, has a lot of traveling in it...well, so does #1 actually, but of a totally different type. And while I think that #1 will also benefit from my move, #2 will most definitely benefit, in a way that is making my adreneline start to pump just thinking about writing about it! I'm really excited, which is fantastic, because it keeps me from freaking out about the fact that I haven't been able to actually put the pen to the paper, so to speak.

I can see it in my head; going on exploratory walks, seeing everything the world has to offer, plotlines growing into more detailed versions of what I imagine, dialogue speaking to me at random times of the day or night, begging me, "WRITE ME DOWN!", which I try to always do, before I forget.

But I'm most excited about getting back to the "gruntwork", turning the dreaming, flow-of-consciousness pictures into words, sentences, paragraphs, and hopefully pages that my story will grow from. There is no other work in the world, that I've found at least, that I enjoy both sides of the coin: the planning and the execution.

Usually, I'm a planner. I'm slightly obsessive about it actually, and I love having time to think about all sides, and details, that are involved in the planning stage. And while I also occasionally enjoy the execution part, things rarely go as planned, and then I'm forced to think on my feet, something I can actually do well, but don't like to unless forced. I hate seeing a perfect plan fall apart, even when the outcome is just as good if not better than originally planned. It's just a weird quirk I have, one of many.

But with writing, I love the planning, or the dreaming stage, as I tend to think of it, and I love the execution too. And even though the same thing happens, and the page turns out totally different in reality, I'm just as happy (usually) with the outcome. Because writing isn't like math; one plus one doesn't have to equal two. It can equal whatever the heck I want it to! One plus one can equal one, in the manner of two people falling in love and finding their soulmate. One plus one can equal three, in the manner of Stephenie Meyer's The Host, and I won't spoil that one by telling you how that works, in case you haven't read it yet. I recommend it, by the way, even for Twi-haters.

What I'm getting at is, there are no wrong answers in writing. The world is a blank page with no lines, no format, no rules. I can put whatever I want, wherever I want, whenever I want.

This makes my slightly rebellious self smile smugly. Take that, math teachers of old!! :)

Since I've taken this time this morning to write this, I've used up most of my alloted writing time, which is okay, since writing is writing, therapudic no matter where I do it. But now I'm psyched about getting into it, digging into the grey matter and seeing what comes out, so I'll leave you until next time. Which hopefully will be sooner than last time. ;)

Here is what I'm seeing right now, through the window next to the computer, and off the front porch. While it may not inspire you the way it does me, I wanted to share a little bit of my viewpoint.

The reason they're all blurry is because it's snowing it's butt off, but my camera is too old and slow to actually pick up the snow itself.