With my thoughts constantly on the birth of my first novel this month, I am reminded of a poem I wrote awhile back on the joys of being a parent for the first time. Whether you are creating a new piece of art, buying your first home or actually becoming a new parent, take a moment to absorb the innocence and purity of this time.
We are always, ever creating, whether conscious of it or not. And it is in remembering the origins of our creations, our life’s work, that we rediscover our inner children. Sometimes pleading for attention, sometimes giggling gleefully, and always ready to request the one thing we adults tend to neglect the most – some good old-fashioned playtime.
With that in mind, enjoy a romp through the play~full poem below.
So I’ve started my novel, and I have to say the flow of ideas is incredible. The power of letting go of outlining or planning or obsessive researching, and just plain writing is unbelievable. The characters are taking me places I never could have imagined. I’ve read that each writer’s process is different, and that some work best with outlines and others work best just going for it. I just never expected I would be a “go for it” writer. But with NaNoWriMo, that’s my only option (unless I want to spend every waking hour of my life this month on my novel, which just isn’t practical since I’m also raising a 2-year-old and running a business).
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