A picture is worth a thousand words. Or so they say. For me, there was a pic that was worth about three thousand.
But this time it took some work.
The pic was chosen specifically. And then I stared at it. For a really long time. I had the barest snippet of a thought. I knew I had to use this pic. But for the longest time, I had no idea how I was going to turn it into a flash fic.
And then one of the characters started talking. Just one sentence. One line. In my head he said “Aren’t you tired of hiding?” And then I knew. I knew where the short story was going to go. I knew what would happen. And I started writing. It went a bit darker than I was thinking, but it ends with hope. And then it got a part two.
I love it when the muse takes over like that. When I’m not certain, exactly, what’s going to come out of my fingers. When I’m really able to just roll with what I see in my head and the scene takes shape before my eyes as words on the screen. When what I’m actually seeing translates to the page.
And next week, you can see what happens. On Friday, I’ll explain more.