Portals to story
Light a match and see what you find
Writing my novel feels different this week.
As I mentioned before, my torrid affair with poetry is ON. I have books of poems stashed all over the house: on the breakfast table, on the nightstand, in a stack at the side of my desk.
With so many close to hand, I pick them up constantly for a sip of words. A poem or three over coffee in the morning, a few more at my desk before I start a scene. This is becoming a habit.
Having read a few poems, my spider sense of language prickles to life. I feel the words rising to the surface. I am more present in my space, but also my mind wakes up to the story I’m trying to tell. Here’s how it’s shifted: