Had a chance to watch Where did you go Bernadette this evening and it moved me. It felt like another hard shove in the direction of production. I loved the film both as an exercise in storytelling and a catharsis of the lost creativity and feelings of being trapped by fear and responsibilities. As a writer who ain’t writing I find my way in and out of a lot of excuses. This film showed me something I’d forgotten: the power of deep and lasting creativity. Guess what? I miss it.
I miss the idea archive. I miss pouring myself into a world and a story so completely that I understand the nuance of how and why people make the choices they do and why those are realistic choices. I miss the joy of grinning over a particular turn of phrase. I miss loving what I write and writing what I love.
I miss the slow anticipation of a story release. I miss the powerful sensation of a good idea. I miss feeling like I did something that lasts—that matters. Simply put, I miss telling stories.
these thumps. These moments of recognition and clarity have become signposts driving me back towards a place of knowing and understanding my connection to the story verse. I’m still not there—I don’t feel it in my bones yet. However, I’m closer than before and close enough to know it is time to start calling out for it with words and writing to build a tether to keep me there as long as I live.