alling in love with writing was easy.
You live out in the middle of nowhere, stories become your friends. Stories on the long bus rides to and from school, stories while you play, stories while you fall asleep.
To this day I think more in stories, I often day dream things to help me figure out what to say or what to do. I would rather day dream than think about my day. I’ll solve a problem or think about a decision if needed, but once the ship of my life is turned in the right direction, stories again are what fill my brain.
So it was not such a huge step, going from stories in my had to writing them down. It’s such a different set of mechanics…things don’t have to be so thoroughly planned or understood in day dreams as they are in writing (though to be honest, the better you get at writing the more you slip things into day dreams to keep them sensible) or so perfectly plotted. I love how writing makes you flesh out the world, the people, how you have such a larger palette of words and tools at your disposal. If I were to write down a day dream – and I rarely do – it would change so very much between the mind and the screen.
As I said, I rarely write down day dreams, because I try not to think over much about what I am writing except when I am stuck. I prefer to have that moment of discovery at the screen to keep me motivated to keep writing. If I day dream it. I have already experienced it and I am les motivated to sit and type. Perverse, right?
hat brings me to soft candle light. A couple of times the electricity has been knocked out for days where I live. The last time I was in the middle of writing something…2009, I think. We were without power for 9 days.
I lived by candle light. I did not have a laptop so could not write until the battery ran out, so I wrote by candlelight and by the light of kerosene oil lamps. I read by it, covered by high heaps of covers to keep warm, cooked by it on a propane camp stove. It is a kinder light, in some ways, yellow and gentle, but the shadows are deeper. More things can hide in the corners.
To me, candle light is not overly romantic, but a mark of a time of quiet. Nothing is quieter than a house without electricity, especially in winter during a snow storm. No cars pass on the road. The snow smothers most incidental sounds and the animals are in hiding. All electrical appliances seem to hum, even if the sound is nearly undetectable, and with the power out all that white noise is gone.
I like it, to be honest. That absolute silence. BUT, I like flushing toilets (nothing says fun like walking down a steep hill with a bucket or two to try and fill it at a creek you hope is not completely frozen over) and automatic heat more.