Writing surprises you sometimes. Yesterday I set out to write a simple spooky story. My end product was something that I barely recognized. Two kids missing and a mystery laying over a small town. I created it, yet the story seemed to have a unique identity. Sometimes when you write you are fully in control, and you are the one who leads the story from beginning to end. There are other times, when my stories seem to develop a life of their own. I love when this happens. Its a unique experience, and when I get down to that level, I feel as if I am tapping into something much bigger than myself. I am the one bringing it to paper, but I feel like some of these stories are much older than me.
Now I am contemplating expanding the story This tiny idea has morphed into a greater idea, and I feel a hunger to pursue it. Where are Alex and Becca and what has happened to them? What comes next? I left the story so open that the possibilities are endless. I want to dive into it, but am unsure of what direction to take the story. Part of me says I should just set aside the planning and simply write. Either way it is an exciting place to be. I love my old stories that I am working on. There is something incredibly refreshing about a new idea, There is so much potential and directions that the story could take. As strange as it is, even as the author I’m not sure where we will end up, but that is what makes it a good story.
It is an exciting place to be.