Icy Nest

I haven’t been feeling very creative lately. I’ve been editing my manuscript (I’ve actually gotten to the end!) and that always makes me feel decidedly uncreative. Don’t get me wrong, I actually LOVE this part of the process, probably moreso than other writers. Tinkering with word choices and moving around scenes is really fun for me, which probably says something about my personality. I just don’t think there’s very much creativity to it. Not like the great thrilling strokes of blurting out a new story on paper. Or coming up with the perfect ending that brings everything together. Even in the revision process there’s still some of this– adding in elements to make it perfect. But what I’m doing now is trimming out the unnecessary words and eliminating the dead sentences.

I find that when I’m doing this a part of me wonders if there’s still any creativity in me. Like the well has dried up and it doesn’t look like rain. I start to fear putting that first sentence on paper (or open office document) as if somehow the act of creation has up and left me for good. I described this same kind of fear in my first post. A year later and I still haven’t drawn anything in that sketch book yet.

This was my state of mind when I walked the kids out to the bus stop yesterday morning. They’d had a two hour delay because of ice and I decided to grab my camera to see if there were any interesting icicles. What I saw was this tiny nest in our prickly bush. All covered in ice and snow, yet underneath a promise of spring, of rebirth. Maybe it was nature’s way of reminding me that everything runs in cycles. My creative cycle will come back.


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