It had been two weeks since I ventured out into the woods. So caught up in my own head, in my own bullshit, I decided to take a break from being myself for a little while.
That might not make sense. I don’t really care. But I did go back into the woods this weekend, on a quest to catch some perspective.
There is this thing that happens, I suppose, at least it happens to me, when I am in the midst of a project, I might get a little too caught up in it. It could then twist me so much and turn me about that I don’t much care for anything else but thinking about the project.
I have been writing around 350 words a night, and have just passed what I estimate to be the halfway point of this current project. Even when I feel a bit stuck inside my own head, I write. Every damn night, I write. Afterwards, I like to get out of my comfort zone, go to places I have never been to before, or to places that have changed drastically since I last saw them.
I like to sit in places I’ve no reason to. Sit and think and stare up at the sky, at the surrounding trees. Listen to whatever sounds might happen, to whatever voices get carried to my ears. And really, really see. And truly, honestly hear.
Another important rule of writing: fill the tanks. I will jokingly refer to my brain as the factory of ideas. But it’s a fair enough assessment. And when the factory runs short on fuel, it needs more. The factory is a needful thing. And so I read whatever I can, absorb whatever words are not my own, get outside of my wheelhouse, and let all kinds of art filter into the void, filling the tanks, until they’re almost brimming with artistic energy.
Sometimes, I topple the tanks and fill them all over again. All the while, I keep writing something, even if it’s just a page a day, just to make progress, just to get some art out. Just to shake out the crazies.
And then there are days like today, when the tanks are full, but I am not sure where I want to go. Days like this, I really need to get out of my own headspace. So today I went walking around the neighborhood, letting the wheels spin, waiting for the factory lights to turn on, and for some words to spill out.
About halfway through the walk, the words began to take shape, or an idea began to form, really. Something that would push the stalled story along, get it moving towards the ending, especially now that the ending is nigh.
I went home, and I typed a mess of nonsense. It’ll all make sense in revisions. It’s all getting me closer to the ending of this project. And then the next one. And the one after that. Thing about this factory of ideas is that it’s taken a long time to secure the foundation, get it working all right. Now, I think it’s in a prime location, and it hits all the sweet notes in my head, and the writing is fine… it’s time to let it all outside, and see where it flies.