A writer’s mind never shuts down.
It barely even pauses.
It follows the moth right into the flame with wild curiosity and escapes slightly singed on the other side but with a great new story to tell.
A writer’s mind is a study in contrasts. It pauses to admire the pastoral green of a country setting while wondering what natural disaster could befall such an idyllic setting.
A writer’s mind is always two steps in each direction, buried to the neck in the current piece the writer has been trying to perfect for months while ankle deep in the new flotilla of ideas which he or she can’t wait to have time to approach.
A writer’s mind is an observer of human behavior, pocketing human traits like baseball cards and trying them out on a variety of new characters.
A writer’s mind is inspired by the smallest event or the humblest of words. A phrase can send a writer into an over-dramatic frenzy of idea.s. A parent running behind a wobbly youngster on a bicycle could inspire a full-length novel.
A writer’s mind can seem distant to those around it. Writers aren’t rude or unsocial; they’re merely involved in a myriad of escapades, past and future, mundane and monumental, all the while not even realizing that they are involved in an actual conversation on this earth.
A writer’s mind is a slowly built Lego kingdom. Each word a brick stacked on another. Each phrase a new direction, each layer a new nuanced description, each solid structure a story with lift and vigor of its own.
A writer’s mind is the most important tool he possesses. The mind is the essence of story, the author of plot, the creator of word-play, the passionate lover of the ebb and flow of human life.
A writer’s mind is a beautiful thing.
At least it is for a writer.