Stories: A Ramble

 A story is a sacred thing. It is in the mind and then it pours out of the pen in a long silver cord until it runs out. Then the author must begin spinning again.

Sometimes a story is born of passion, and then it flows out of the pen (or computer keyboard) in quick, angry strokes. Paragraphs of bad writing tell the reader a jerky story of heart rather than head.

Sometimes a story is born of apathy and languor, and it flows slowly and pessimistically into short paragraphs and short stories and short thoughts. It may be surprisingly creative and new, but it seldom takes your breath away in a thrill of beauty.

Sometimes a story is born out of a healthy, balanced mind. It ekes out in normal, human paces. Sometimes it speeds up in passion, but it also slows to something like languor. The extremes, however, do not cloud the purpose of the author, which is to create a story that he or she likes and has put her soul into.

In some ways a story is an attempt at immortality. It's like a horcrux for people who aren't obsessed with controlling the world. It's a bit like a magic ring in that it gives you longer life. It's also dangerous. A word sets the world on fire.

Above is my new idea for a story. It started out in passion. It's now in languor. I have a feeling that if these two evil combinations can stave off, it might be healthy.

But I'll have to write it to find out.