I wrote this a little over six months ago just prior to the commencement of NANOWRIMO 2022. The story I carefully discovered, sifting through the recesses of my mind before November, rests incomplete on my laptop, taking up precious space but not yet quite enough.
Not a week goes by that I do not ponder the remaining chapters still unwritten, waiting in the creative collective consciousness, as I tease out flashes of insight into new aspects of character and plot. Ideas flicker like lightening-bugs in a jar, flitting about as understanding briefly illuminates my mind. Have I grasped the idea so fleetingly conceptualized? Is it a bright spot in the darkness of writer’s block?
Alas, it is not yet to be. The ruminations hardly produce meaningful prose. Reduced to merely editorial capitulations, my work and creative flow stagnated, limiting my productivity.
Perhaps this tale will still be told even though it waits, cautiously hidden until the leaves work their magic, illuminating the trees in dappled gold-orange hues. Until then, I will diligently continue to repair context and content, character and plot, awaiting my muse’s return.
Dandelion Doorways 