WIP Wednesday: My Patient But Persistent Imagination
Recently, I had been forced to clear out some storage space in my loft. In doing so I came across a few of my old high school notebooks, as well as an arm load of scrap papers I’d claimed in the name of writing during the years I had worked in the Mental Health field.
The notebooks were not so much a surprise as the scrap papers or the volume I had compiled over the years. I was a writer when I was a teen, that was certain. So the load of old high school note books and steno pads was no surprise, but the bevy of muse scrawls across the backs of case forms from different agencies and drug company giveaway stationary was. I guess I was a writer then too. I just didn’t believe it? Notice it? Ready to admit it? But it was there, my imagination was always there. It never left me even when I thought I’d left it. Even ignoring it for nearly a decade my imagination had the tenacity to hang on, all the while gathering materials inside of my head to be used for later.
And then one day-probably some nondescript sort of day where I had been bored or annoyed, I wrote something. Not about a client or a needed request for work, but something of fiction. Something for me. I figure that my imagination had been fit to bust by that time. It had already leaked out when I took a part time second job at JoAnne Fabrics and was no doubt appeased when I self decorated my own apartment and then held a few classes to teach others how to do the same. My imagination leaked out even more when I began craft and art projects with my long term clients and began to pour out when I took back up art for my own form of therapy.
I did try to push my imagination into a comfortable controlled corner after those leak outs into my professional existence. I took a couple art and writing classes, but didn’t really have the funding to continue. I think taking those classes only provoked my imagination-not place any order upon it. Not long after I had ended those classes i realized I had to pay attention to my imagination or hate myself later.
I cant say what day it was or what the subject had been about when I actually let my imagination (my writing) full sway into my life again. It may have been a short piece with my MC Logan and his grandfather or maybe a Stargate SG-1 fan fiction-‘Vala’s Question’ I think.
I’m just glad I did.
The notebooks were not so much a surprise as the scrap papers or the volume I had compiled over the years. I was a writer when I was a teen, that was certain. So the load of old high school note books and steno pads was no surprise, but the bevy of muse scrawls across the backs of case forms from different agencies and drug company giveaway stationary was. I guess I was a writer then too. I just didn’t believe it? Notice it? Ready to admit it? But it was there, my imagination was always there. It never left me even when I thought I’d left it. Even ignoring it for nearly a decade my imagination had the tenacity to hang on, all the while gathering materials inside of my head to be used for later.
And then one day-probably some nondescript sort of day where I had been bored or annoyed, I wrote something. Not about a client or a needed request for work, but something of fiction. Something for me. I figure that my imagination had been fit to bust by that time. It had already leaked out when I took a part time second job at JoAnne Fabrics and was no doubt appeased when I self decorated my own apartment and then held a few classes to teach others how to do the same. My imagination leaked out even more when I began craft and art projects with my long term clients and began to pour out when I took back up art for my own form of therapy.
I did try to push my imagination into a comfortable controlled corner after those leak outs into my professional existence. I took a couple art and writing classes, but didn’t really have the funding to continue. I think taking those classes only provoked my imagination-not place any order upon it. Not long after I had ended those classes i realized I had to pay attention to my imagination or hate myself later.
I cant say what day it was or what the subject had been about when I actually let my imagination (my writing) full sway into my life again. It may have been a short piece with my MC Logan and his grandfather or maybe a Stargate SG-1 fan fiction-‘Vala’s Question’ I think.
I’m just glad I did.