It’s not that I’m superstitious, or that I don’t want anyone to steal my idea (I’ve never been the paranoid type—an idea is just a spark, and no two people write the same story in the same way).
It’s just that I have a story, but I don’t know what it will become yet. I’m at that initial stage, just thirty pages in, when it excites me and intrigues me and enchants me as it slowly reveals pieces of itself on the page. And it’s scary, too: who knows if things will work out or not. All I know is I have to give into it to find out, or I’ll regret holding back.
It’s a young love. One day, I’ll want to share it with the world, but for now, it’s just me and this story, seeing what happens and high on the possibilities.
Have you ever not wanted to talk about a new work?
Photo by: Allen Sky