#Trust30 Day 17 – Head in the Clouds

A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

My favorite quote of all time is Alan Kay: ‘In order to predict the future, you have to invent it.’ I am all about inventing the future. Decide what you want the future to be and make it happen. Because you can. Write about your future now. – Cindy Gallop

Here’s a snapshot from the future. It’s fun to dream.

I foresee a future full of many journeys and even more words. I see myself using words to paint pictures of soft summer sunsets and billowy clouds drifting lazily overhead as they resist the collective call of the people to go away(!) for the summer.

I see myself getting up at six in the morning and sauntering out to my balcony overlooking a quiet street in a seaside city. I quickly eat a light breakfast, then sit down to labor out a few thousand words before my brain needs a break. When the energy runs out, I stop, put the laptop away and take a short walk down the street to have a cup of coffee and read the paper. After an hour of relaxation, I head back to my perch on the balcony, where I would once again pick up the story. If words do not come, I take out a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen and scribble out something—a new character, villainous and immoral, or a picturesque landscape, a place where the heroine could not help but be happy and beautiful.

With the mechanisms of creation turning out words once again, I spend several more hours developing these characters and the lives they lead. They have become dear to me, and they would be dear to others too, if only they knew them as well as I do.

They say a good length for a first novel is around 100,000 words. That sounds like a lot, but really it is very few, especially if you want people to know how much life your characters have.

I will write—and will not stop writing—until the words which have built up inside me for so many years have run out. It might not be in my lifetime, for there were many years when I watched and listened and said very little.

I will write to solidify my own thoughts and perspectives, which slowly shift like the ground over a sunken spring.

I will learn to write without using too much alliteration.

When I am tired, I will be careful not to write too much, for the words tend to ramble on without direction.

I will not be afraid to try new things, even if they might not be understood by everyone.

And I will never forget to somehow tie the end to the beginning, even when there appears to be no strong bond between the two.

Click. The shutter is closed.