Member-only story
When a Story is Born…
She did it! She took the leap…or the bait, depending on how you see it.
She set a goal for this year’s NaNoWriMo and started writing.
Until that day, she would not commit for she could not see the story that her mind has been dreaming for the last nine months grow. Nine months of gestation? Surely it’s time now to birth it?
And, just like the first twinges of labour, as she walked across the desolate moorland, she felt it begin. She saw The Way, the birthing canal. The means by which this story could be delivered to her audience. And it was perfect.
In every way it was a true reflection of the very reason she came up with the story in the first place, and a worrying likeness to her own life. This story she had conceived really had inherited her genetics quite evidently.
Would that be obvious to her readers, though? She could just hear them now:
“Aww…look she has your nose!”
“Those big eyes…just like yours when you were a tiny thing.”
And, if so, would she really want them to know that it’s really her story?
But, just as a labouring woman has to eventually relinquish all control and let nature do its thing, she had to give in to the calling and write those words with every ounce of love she could muster inside of her.
Birth it. Nourish it. Dress it. Discipline it.
Let the story be born and grow. Who cares what comes next!
