Origins of Creativity in Writing

There are numerous Blogfests running on any given day. Some are ongoing and others are one shots. With all that run, I do tend to pick around the lot, finding the ones that really interest me…and, hopefully, you.

Origins: When did your writing dream begin? is the brain child of DL Hammons at Cruising Altitude,  and he has three co-hosts: Katie Mills aka Creepy Query Girl ; Matthew MacNish at The QQQE ; and Alex Cavanaugh at Alex J. Cavanaugh.

To find the other blogs participating in this blogfest, click HERE or the Origins logo. There are close to 200 writers participating. Check them out.

I’ve also written a Flash Fiction piece  Origins: Entitled on my creative fiction blog, Tale Spinning. I hope you enjoy the story.

I can’t really pinpoint an exact time when writing became one of my dreams. It feels like it’s always been there, at the back of everything I’ve done in my life.  I don’t feel I’ve ever been tied down to wanting to “be” just one thing, ever. When I have done that, I find that I tend to get bored: especially the times when I’ve played the money game (read: non-creative pursuits).

As a kid, I read comics, watched TV and went to the movies. Outside of school projects, I would create little things for myself. Mini-comics were a way to pass time when I was bored in class. I’d take paper and fold it down, and then again, creating a sequential booklet for myself to draw in (lots of stick figures) and write short pieces. These would get passed around to friends later. I don’t remember ever getting caught.

There were stories I wrote for sleep-away camp newspapers, mainly mash-ups (yes, plagiarisms) of others work, combining different elements into one piece. While never criticized for that, I was often praised for “imaginative writing” and writing skills. I knew the truth, and just shrugged my shoulders.

High school changed that. I worked on the DeWitt Clinton newspaper for a year, writing articles, learning the craft of setting up the newspaper from scratch. I was really involved, and was going to be promoted to an editor’s slot when my parents told me we were moving to Westchester County. While my dreams of the paper were shot at that point (the new HS paper was not very open to someone new coming in), I did continue to write.

Off and on, I would write poetry, short stories, begin ideas for novels…and more times than not they would languish, first just as a pile of legal pad paper and then committed electronically and saved. All through this, I was always hoping I’d have my name on a book (or comic book) as a writer. It was a passing dream that wove itself throughout most of my life, a goal I always hoped I’d achieve.

2011 saw a new stage of writing for me. I created my second blog, Tale Spinning, for experiments in creative writing. Starting only in February of that year, I wound up writing close to 200 short pieces of fiction. I’ve now had two short stories published in anthologies, have my own eStory published, received a number of blogging/writing awards, been asked to write a number of guest blogs, and have won a few online writing contests.

Still to come: holding that physical book with my name on the cover in my hands.

On Writing In A Cafe (The Creativity Series: Guest Post)

I’ve know Rita Bregman for a long time, more as an online presence but we have met, and talked on the phone. A displaced New Yorker living just outside of San Fransisco, Rita is a talent writer and good friend.

On this, the last Bornstoryteller for 2011, Rita offers you a poem from her book: On Amethyst Glass: Two Voices, One Song

On Writing in a Cafe

In the process of reading,

you concentrate on the lines,

and the words filter through you

as though through a fine sieve.

You can see them; you can keep a few,

but you don’t really need them.

But the process of writing takes you over,

drives and tortures you,

lets nothing in to save you —

no noise, no time,

no pain, no hunger.

It’s not a casual pick-up,

not a one-night stand.


It’s a long-term, symbiotic relationship.

You are one with your words,

and they with you,

(although you fight a lot),

and it’s a restless world placing words over words, under words,

turning inside out the world of rhythm and sound, time and space

that lives inside.

And you’re never sure if you’ve found that one right word

that will stand-in for your feelings…

…but you damn well know when it’s wrong!

Sometimes in the oddest places

you will become so excited by the combinations,

and so necessary to you are they,

that you will grab a lipstick pencil and an old, used tissue,

or write all around the borders of a road map,

just to see how the words work together….

because they are gifts to try on,

be amazed by,

and held onto because they are yours.

And then WHAM! You’re jolted!

Because someone across the room has dropped a cup on the tile floor

and shattered your concentration in a million pieces,

and you slowly become conscious that you’ve been writing

with a pen borrowed from the waiter

on a napkin,

over a wilted spinach salad,

in a cafe filled with laughing, young men in shorts,

and young women with no make-up reading novels,

and that you are the fossil

they know they will become some day.

Rita Bregman, © 2011

Happy New Year, Everyone. See you in 2012.

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