29 Oct

Sometimes the words don’t flow and one struggles to put pen to paper (or fingers on the keyboard!), but there are times, magical times, when images become words…or is it the other way round? This word magic usually happens when I am relaxed, before falling asleep, or at times when I am definitely not near a computer or even a piece of paper or a pencil.

“But I am certain to remember this…” I would think, and repeat the words in my head. To no avail, they’ve already fled the scene.

So nope, it doesn’t work that way.

The words, the images are as elusive as stardust. You may catch a phrase or two, but it will not stay in your mind unless you can write it down FAST!

Here are some random words that floated through my lazy, vacant mind which I have been lucky enough to capture and pen down before they could escape:

‘Her eyebrows were a mystery, darting across her forehead in a mercurial manner: untamed, and in a word, frivolous.’

(I wasn’t think “Frida” at the time, actually.)

When I wrote this I certainly thought of a pale, long-fingered hand:

She wiped her hand across her nose in a Meryl Streepish sort of way: languidly, elegantly exhausted; defeated by the pretense of grief.

Well,” she said, “So much for funerals. They always make me look bad.”‘

Another snippet:

Ice crystals had formed in her veins and she loved the jagged bitch she had become. No more tears for me, she thought. She took the kitchen knife and sharpened it, purposefully drawing the blade against the sharpening steel in deft, deliberate strokes.It sang in her hands and she smiled.’

It’s so much easier to write about bad people, somehow:

The moon lay in her wine glass as she tilted it sideways and then she took a sip, savoring the velvety red as it rolled along her tongue. She swallowed slowly, thinking of the last man she had in her bed. He had tasted of velvet too and she remembered she wanted to bite him, hard, to draw blood for all the fucks she had ever had and the ones who never called again. She had resisted the impulse, much to her regret.’

These images are not related to any character but they pop into my head at the strangest times, as if a book were being written in my head all the time. They are not really my thoughts, perhaps they are emanating from my subconscious….whoa, better not go there!

Better save these for NaNoWriMo….mmmm, or is that cheating?

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Posted by on October 29, 2014 in Uncategorized


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