I woke from a dream late last week with a story burning a hole in me wanting to get out. As always, I took some notes but I really wanted to return to a project I'd already been working one. However, every time I opened that document and tried to work, this other story haunted me.
I tried to be disciplined and resist as long as I could, but the other night it wouldn't stay in any longer. I sat at my drawing table and the main character emerged effortlessly as if she was always there waiting to be seen. I hand-wrote the opening scene beside her at a pace my hand could barely keep up with. There are still many questions that I'm mulling over and still a lot to discover about this world I've trespassed into, but it's too late leave. I'm hooked.
There's one thing I've learned about publishing and that's to follow your imagination. You can't necessarily worry about who will publish your story. The only think you can be certain of is that if you don't love what your writing, it's pretty much guaranteed nobody else will either.
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