Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Writing the Storm

Storms, certainly not tornadoes, help me write. It's the sound of the rain, the grumble of Mother Earth that pulls me from reality into my imagination. Perhaps this started when I was a child.

In my childhood I was absolutely terrified of storms. I would not leave my Dad's side. I remember shaking in my flip-flops praying the Giants would stop wrestling over my head. I even used my sacred wand (oak stick) to cast a spell on Mother Earth. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

When I turned 7ish, during those moments of horrific fear, I wrote or played Barbies or Glamour Gals. Either way, I spent time creating a story. I often lost myself in those moments of story-weaving. Many times I forgot it was storming, minus that occasional blinding flash of light and earth shaking rumble that followed. This became ritual to me- if it stormed- I wrote or played. Either way, I created a world far from there, far from the storm in a mystic cave, or endangered jungle or perhaps a castle in Ireland where the faeries dared me to step into their circle.

Old habits are hard to break. It storms, I write. And I write the same as I did a two decades ago (clearing throat)- with a pad of paper and a pen (pens seemed more grownup than a pencil.) There is something about feeling a good ink pen flow across paper. It's a ballet of words at best, even if it's the Hillbilly Hop version...

May each of your WRITE THE STORM!!!