About a year ago, I went through a phase where I wrote a lot. I wrote poems, short stories, blog posts (obviously), really bizarre letters to my little brother, and lots and lots of lists.
This week, I picked up an old notebook that I haven't used since July and I found something I wrote during this phase. I had completely forgotten about it, and it made me want to cry. It's not really a story, more like a little snapshot from what could have been a story--the whole thing is only about 6 pages--and it's actually a bit depressing. But I had forgotten just how much I loved it.
I've added a few thoughts to it each night before bed. Yep, I've become that girl. If I owned a black turtleneck, I would totally put it on and take my notebook down to the coffee shop so that I could write. And I don't even drink coffee. I feel like a character in a Woody Allen movie. Like Gil in Midnight in Paris, but without the crazy fiance. Or the time travel.
I don't know quite why this matters to me, and no doubt in a few weeks or months it'll go back to being something forgotten in a notebook. But right now, it feels good to create something without being asked.
Post a Comment