I’ll be honest, I’m not the best planner. But moments, I’m pretty darn good at. For example, I might not plan a vacation very well, and I often start packing the night before a trip, but I’m thilled once I arrive. Suddenly I have a flood of ideas of how to make special memories. Maybe a walk alone with one of my daughters to watch a sunrise. Or look for a shooting star with the teenager who hates to wake up early. Or a slow dance in the RV with hubby when the kids are off collecting kindling for the fire.
And these same moments transcend into my fictional world. When I start a new book, I have the best intentions to plan and outline and chart up a storm, but I fumble and grumble and magic lamp my way through it, wishing I could just start writing already. And then it happens. I see a moment in the story. One that just tickles my story-buds and I have to write it down. I don’t even know if this is in the middle of the story. Near the end. Or if this kicks off the whole adventure. Here is one of those “moments,” from a book I’m working on that I’ve temporarily titled, Blindspot. Enjoy:
Last night I dreamt like a blind person sees. Blackness walled me in. Turning when I heard the flicker of a match, heat greeted my fingertips and the scent of smoke filled my senses. At first there was no light. Then I forgot what light looked like. Colors faded one by one, and soon, only black remained. I could not will my return to the world of sight no matter how deeply I longed it. I now dreamed as I lived. Blindly.
At first I resented my brain for catching up with my reality, hating my memories for teasing me a trip to the past. Like a missed flight, I waited in a crowded airport with no hope of reaching my destination. I lost count of how many mornings I woke up angry. And then one day, I stopped, and let myself dream again. And it was like skinny-dipping on a moonless night. I felt free. I could not see the night, and the night could not see me.
And in time, the sounds awakened me, the scents nourished me, and the sweet touch of a feather brushed my arm, luring me back each night. Because his voice tickled my ears. I inhaled his closeness as we walked on water. And his fingers held the feather that traced life up and down my arm.
And that’s when I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I could still feel. And feeling meant feeling alive. Pain, joy, rage, love. Bring it. I wanted it all. Like a tree dusting off winter’s hold, I couldn’t waste another second.
And you? Are you a planner or a moment by moment kind of person? And for fun: what’s one thing you forgot to pack on your last vacation? For me, I forgot to pack my light pink nail polish. Which was a problem since that morning, two nails got chipped, and I had time at the airport to brush those puppies back into shape. In the end, I wore gloves. Kidding. It was summer, and I just did my best to not let it bother me. And no one said a thing. Although I’m sure they were talking about me when they got home. Glad I was good for something!
Rajdeep Paulus, Award-Winning author of Swimming Through Clouds, Seeing ThroughStones, and Soaring Through Stars, is mommy to four princesses, wife of Sunshine, a coffee-addict and a chocoholic. As of this June 2013, she’s a Tough Mudder. To find out more, visit her website or connect with her via Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or Instagram.