My husband, kids and I went to a New Year’s Eve gathering last night. Good friends, good food, lots of fun and interesting conversation. And my most frequent thought, recurring through the evening: “How can I use this in a story?”
Apparently real life isn’t enough.
I live in Missouri, a more beautiful place than many realize. I love writing, reading, walking, bicycling, and making lists. I’ve written poetry since I was seven. A few years ago I branched out into short fiction and memoir pieces. I also perpetually have a novel in progress. My brain pursues ideas at a brisk pace, wandering all over the map. This blog represents one of my efforts to keep up with it.
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One thought on “The Sad Truth About a Writer’s Mind”
I frequently have the same experience. I’m often seen scribbling notes at social functions. Sometimes I think reality isn’t real until it’s been turned into art, but that’s probably just a rationalization.