The Creativity of Writing

So here's my thing about writing. I love coming up with characters and scenarios, and I really enjoy setting up a scene to illustrate a moment or emotion. I just don't have the attention span to follow through with an entire story. I think that's why I come up with songs more than anything.

I go through phases where I try to write again. I'll think of a great character or interesting setting or crazy plot twist, and I'll sit down and begin, but I just don't seem to stay inspired for very long. I've finally accepted that I won't come up with a brilliant novel of any sorts. Oh, I'm sure I could write a piece that lies infinite levels above Stephanie Meyer's quality, but I also have no desire to write fluff. But Twilight's not even fluff. It's like, sad little dust that gets caught inside fluff. Fluff dust.

I don't want to write fluff dust.

So my laptop is full of scenes. That's what I usually end up writing. If I don't feel like doing a song, I'll just pick an emotion or event and illustrate it as best as I can. It's pretty fun. Especially illustrating emotions. I enjoy showing the reader how a character is feeling, because when you show the reader instead of tell them, they can feel the emotion too. 

There doesn't always have to be a goal, though. Sometimes it's fun to begin writing and see what happens. Here's a sampling (what a great word). I don't remember when I wrote it, but I remember that I didn't have anything in mind. I had been daydreaming about the beach. That was the inspiration. This is actually one of my favorite pieces. I don't exactly know why. But maybe you will enjoy it too!

The moon glowed orange and bounced off the waves and landed comfortably on the shore, nestling in among the grains of sand, seeping down into them. And the ocean breathed sharp salty breaths all around her. And the stars had fled from the moon and situated themselves out over the horizon, watching her now with small faded eyes from behind disguises of pale light. The water slid past her feet, swirling and dancing between her toes, tugging the sand out from under them and running off with it, back to its refuge beneath the sea. And she stood in the light chill of the lazy wind, the cool wind that tickled her skin into goosebumps.  

So there's mine. No plot, no point, just words that seem content to sit together on a page (or screen).

Your turn. Go. Write something.