I got up and wrote the beginning of a fiction story this morning. I haven't done that in years. Since I printed off the "novel" for my Independent Study. I wore myself out a little on that one. Then I left college and lost my mentor and haven't felt the desire to create anything. It's sad, really.
But I was recently given a book of black and white photographs, "The Family of Women." And while I would dearly love to know the context of the photos rather than the place and photographer, the unknown has been good for my creative side. I started a story from a point of view that I have never attempted before. I can't believe how my mind just clicked back into place, and suddenly I saw where it could go.
It was a good morning.
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