The Words Finally Came To Me

I am writing two books. One I call my Blindman book for secret reasons that will be revealed once it’s published. The other I call my Horse book, which also has a private reason for calling it that, but it also will be revealed when it’s published.

I think I have finished or almost finished my Blindman book. I am still in the process of printing out all the pages and putting them in order. I tend to write like a grasshopper hops. I’ll get a scene in my head and quickly type the words. So my books are written out of  chronological order, but with passion and hopefully so that the reader feels as if they’re “there”. The task of printing out the Blindman book and organizing it is taking longer than anticipated. I do also have the other (Horse) book to finish.

This morning the beginning, or maybe it will be the back of the book blurb, or both? for the Horse book came to me. I’ve struggled for years to figure out how to begin this book. I wasn’t sure where the beginning truly was. I found it this morning.

I just typed those words, and using the wordcount tool online, I found it was 348 words/ 9th-10th grade reading level. That surprised me. For some reason, my writing usually ends up 7th to 8th grade reading level, and I wondered why this morning’s level was higher? But I digress. I do that when thoughts are too emotional, or when the passion is too high. It may be part of my “grasshopper writer syndrome” and I just coined that phrase, as far as I know . . . but it suits me.

I guess while I’m printing and organizing the Blindman book, I will start writing more on the Horse book. That makes sense.

I also have a poem I showed a friend, and she loved it! She usually politely says my work is “good”, but after hearing how much she loved the bird poem, I think I need to seek a publisher very soon. I’ve sold poems in the past. They don’t pay much, but they do pay something, at least the places I submit. My poems are written when I’m inspired. I don’t just sit down and think, “I’m going to write a poem about birds”. I spend time with birds and at some point, it may be days later, even weeks later, a poem will begin shaping itself in my head from that experience, and I’ll sit down and type or write up the words. Someone once told me I had a muse. There’s something that starts the poem for me and helps me through it . . . that’s for sure. Whatever it is, I’m grateful.

This morning’s writing was very rewarding. I’ve tried for years, strained for years, to find a beginning to my story. I found it this morning.


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