When the idea of EENY MEENY CRIMINY CROW first appeared on my horizon, nothing could keep me from writing the story. A passion had entered my life unlike anything I had ever experienced before. The story was in me, oozing its way out at every chance–while driving, vacuuming, washing dishes, fixing supper, working with clients, walking down the road, falling asleep. Relentless insights would wake me in the night. The story was everywhere. I was possessed.
Then one person made a comment: You really think you’re a writer?
And just like that, the balloon popped. The boat sank. The plane crashed. The dream died.
It turned out that passion was a fickle thing.
Now. These days I write. Every day. But since that comment nearly ten years ago, from a person I thought I respected, that passion has never returned. One mentor passed away. Then another. I felt rudderless. I couldn’t make up my mind, do I write long (novels)? Do I write short (poems, short stories)? Drowning in a sea of ideas that wanted release but I couldn’t find the switch, even though I kept writing, hoping something good would show up on the page.
Today I read a post written by Grant Hudson that sparked that old ember that lit up my writing life when EENY opened up my writing world. You can view the post here.
I wrote EENY in increments of stolen time. A minute here. Ten minutes there. On pieces of torn paper. Outside the lined boundaries on legal pads. Envelopes. Receipts. Once even on the sole of my shoe!
What I learned from Grant’s post was: If the story is right for the author it will come out, no matter what anyone else says! So, here’s hoping!
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