As a writer, it’s hard to wait for greatness to bleed onto the page. But when it does, it’s a glorious thing. I’ll write a sentence or a paragraph or a chapter and I get chills. A smile blooms on my face and my heart pounds. And every time I remember it, the reaction is the same and one of the most amazing feelings in the world. I’m extremely lucky to experience it. Not often, but enough to keep me motivated, to stoke the fire of my imagination.
Do other artists yearn for these moments, these tiny glimpses of their creative genius at work? They must, because why else would they even try? The creative process is nothing short of miraculous. To produce something from nothing, like a magician conjures rabbits out of thin air. And it is magical, in its own way.
My pen isn’t a magic wand but it is mightier than the sword and I’ll use it to slay dragons any day. Or write poems. Or tell a tale so compelling I’ll forget where I am, who I am. All for the chance to capture that perfect feeling of wonder. Awe. The stuff of dreams. The thrill of writing.