Another Week's Entry to #ThursThreads and Other Musings...

    I came to a realization earlier this week while in a discussion on Discord that perhaps I'm trying to control my muse a little too much. I get so fixated on having an outline to write from to keep the story on pace and not veer off and jump the shark that I'm not allowing for happy accidents or true creativity. Most ideas that come to me, I know how they start and how I want it to end, and a few key moments in between, and perhaps that should be enough. I don't have to nail down every single thing between those moments and just let the word flow and see how the characters speak to me. 

    I'm going to try this new thought process on my current WIPs. I haven't actively written in a very long time, much to my shame, but I find my mind being full of ideas again. I may not go back to my old WIPs from ten years ago, but that's fine. It's all a part of the process. I'm glad to just be writing again. 

    My #ThursThread entries these past few weeks are starting to form a story, and has grabbed a hold of me. There is no outline, no character sketches, none of the typical preparations I do. This is 100% pants-ing, flying by the seat of my pants, writing. Last week's entry to #ThursThreads won honorable mention! That was a great source of encouragement for me that my creativity and my muse haven't completely gone away. 

    If you haven't seen my previous entries, you can check them out here on this blog or on the #ThursThread blog. I don't have a name for this collection of drabbles yet. It's angsty, that's all I have so far. 

This week's #ThursThreads prompt is "I don't need answers."

My entry: 

    He tried to get into a new routine, but everything reminded him of her. Their lives had become so intertwined that there wasn’t a facet of his life that she wasn’t a part of in some way. He never minded it, he relished it. He had been alone for so long before they met that having her in his life, in every aspect, was a novelty that he never ever got tired of having.

    Now that it was gone. If he thought his loneliness was bad before they met, it was so much worse now. Now he knew what it was like to be loved, truly loved and to love in return. A soulmate. And now he knew what it was like to lose it.

    He sighed.

    She found him standing on the balcony nursing his usual glass of whisky. Her daughter. His stepdaughter. Home from college for the summer. She looked too much like her. It was painful. Her eyes red-rimmed and sad looking as she gazed at him. He knew she was hurting too. He wanted to comfort her, but his grief was so all-encompassing he found it nearly impossible to reach out to anyone. Especially her. He was a shit stepparent.

    “The final reports from the accident came in,” she offered quietly.

    “I-I don’t need answers.” His voice caught as he spoke. The first words he had spoken aloud in days. “Nothing will change what has happened. Nothing will bring your mom back.”

               

246 words

@mlgammella