© 2013 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee
What do You write about? Discover a treasure.
The mind deludes and fantasizes; the eye deceives. On a daily basis writers come to wonder what to write about, how we may discover something new, anything that may be fascinating. Surroundings in reality may be mundane, even dull. We may be tempted to introduce the unorthodox or outrageous in an atmosphere that is serene. We may introduce fantasy and excitement into the ordinary, magically create the unusual, and pretend to see what is spectacular myth. I'm not really a troll-believer or a fantasy writer. The muse suggests we search for the gem instead; discover a treasure, that special something that may be just outside the box when the writing mind balks. The dreaded writer's block enters the fray. Which form of writing do you consider worthy of your time? Fiction, poetry, screenplays, or short stories? No matter--choose and enjoy. Discover a treasure within the mind. Where in life should the effort of everyday writing be concentrated? I wish to officially savour a process; the investigation, a correlation and assembly of fact and fantasy. I take pride in organizing diverse subject matter with relish. In the writer mind, disconnected facts easily leap gaps of time, logic, and comprehension. It is late spring, not fall. The garden is planted. No colored leaves, dappled sunlight on red apples among them, but it can be if we make it so. Let us allow distraction for a moment. Let us create time and place, and discover a treasure. Wide-eyed kids giggle and happily check out what first may appear to be a line of dull, ordinary vendors at a country fair, music, tools, tractors, vegetable displays. Horses and chickens, pigs and peacocks. Antique, brightly painted motors run; old iron, the smell of burning oil, wood-carving clubs demonstrating proud carvings of elephants, swans and moose. Little old ladies knit but eat hot dogs, ice cream, smile and nod at passing candied apples and elephant ears, floppy pastries white with dusty icing sugar. Chatter rises and subsides with the music.... We write about country fairs with relish, after all, the main course was imagination, wasn't it? Wait. Wait....think....maybe I know more trolls than I thought. They terrify fair maidens in castles. Trolls guard the drawbridge --and a fabulous treasure chest, the air is cold and damp down in the dungeon. Water drips, it works on the mind...a skeleton slumps from manacles on cold stone, death in chains. When will they come?
Place yourself in any location, at any time. On a skateboard out of control, on a Harley, the open road, or climbing a volcano on the Ring of Fire. The unexpected must be expected; the unknown is required to encourage the mind to work. Curiosity, temptation, experience; all push exploration of the mind. Stretch the limits, ignore comfort zones, and discover a treasure. Plead insanity. Sneak past the trolls.
The Hoxne Hoard - Discover a treasure...
Unfortunately, teachers label that kind of distraction A.D.D. nowadays.
My daughter, at age 10, once wrote a beautiful autumn poem while sitting in class, looking out the window. I wish I could find where I saved that.
hi Alexandra, those ARE treasures, the kind that should be kept. too bad they call it A.D.D. now–I guess we all have it. “:))
welcome to the ADD, ADHD and assorted symptoms of a crowded planet…i am a fantasy deficient writer.
as a child, i was often bambooed by the nuns for being “on the moon again” a wandering mind was worth a few sharp raps on fingertips with a ruler..it stings..and it was meant to discourage the precocious poet within–i do believe the method failed–however it did slow down the process.
the writer overcomes situations and conditions, words proceed spontaneously as they march through the space behind the eyes, some ultimately arrive on a page, somewhere.
isn’t the writing life a wonderful prospect?
Hi, Nadine, you are absolutely right. The imagination, an invaluable tool, is often destroyed in children by “well-intentioned” bullies of whatever stripe, whether it be educational, political or religious. THOSE people need to be rapped severely on the fingers instead, it seems it may do more good.Yes, words march on, and we must move with them –or suffer the consequences. The writing life IS a wonderful prospect. “:)