WNP: Familiar

WNP: "She sang a song I’d never heard, and yet it felt so familiar."

I was sitting in a corner booth, over under the mirrors and behind the long wall of books at The Library, when I first heard her sing.  It was a small eclectic bar and coffeehouse that sometimes had poetry readings or musicians of an evening. Someplace I'd been going after work for months to swig a beer or sip a cup of coffee, pretending to myself I was writing the Great American Novel in my battered composition books. Mostly though, I was just writing scribbles.   Fragments of thought; bits of story; random associations; little pieces of words that didn't quite make a poem. None of it had yet coalesced into "something more".  I used to think that, hopefully, if I kept showing up at the page, the story would to. One day.  Or so I liked to comfort myself.

She sang a song that night I'd never heard, and yet it felt so familiar.  Like a long drink of water shivering down the core of my bones. That night, I wrote my first complete set of song lyrics.

~excerpted from an interview on the source of inspiration with Adele Simons, lyricist

Objects of Inspiration

I have been seriously enjoying the "writing areas" photos on other people's blogs, so I thought I would share a bit of a view of my own.  Here is a view of  some of the objects of inspiration, sitting near where I write.  The smaller frame represents the words it contains, but it also represents Anne Lamott's admonition to keep a small picture frame on one's writing desk to remind [me]  to take things "bird by bird" and "frame by frame".  And Bear (or Bickley or Golden Eyes, depending on my mood) is my chosen artist totem from working through the Artist Way by  J. Cameron.