December 16
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Twilight Time and the Birth of a Story
There’s a moment just before you drift off to sleep (or are just waking up) and I call this Twilight Time because your mind is in two stages.
It also happens to be when the ideas tend to come to me; sometimes I’m good about remembering them when I wake up, other times not so much. That’s why I’m here to preach the importance of having a notebook and pen sitting next to your bed (or wherever you happen to sleep).
Last night, as I was drifting to sleep, a fragment of an idea the size of a diamond fleck came to me. The Sandman had given me an extra dose, so I was fighting it as I clawed my way onto my side and grabbed the notebook off the nightstand, luckily the pen rolled onto the bed with it.
I scribbled that first small thought. Then another followed. Before long, I had the page completely filled with gems that I would need to gently thread into a story. But, I also had something I was not expecting.
Some time ago, I’d say about six months, I had developed a general premise for a story. No matter which way I spun it, however, it never quite felt right to me. I already had the title, which I loved, so I just let it sit. When I had finished scribbling my notes, I realized that one of the lines was the title to that story that never quite wanted to be written. Until now.
Stories are strange creatures. Some will let you know the moment they are conceived, but will force you into a gestation period–like the one above. Others won’t let you know they’ve been conceived until you’re delivering it right on the page.