writing, still no sign of her.

i have decided writing is like a relationship. and every story, for me at least, is female. i have had one lover so far, and fortunately we were lucky to have a successful relationship, and we took it as far as we could. but unlike other relationships, i think that stories allow you to find other stories. it’s a bit caveman-like in that aspect. the story being haooy to platy it’s part while the writer conquers as many as ‘he’ can.

So on to the next one. But still no inspiration. Change of scenery required. Muse needed. E, that was you for a while, not in a sexual way, but i found i was a better talker, listener… writer, when i spoke to you more. any sexual musings were purely a by-product. no harm done. no love lost (in the good way).

Inspiration occasionally strikes, one line at a time. one poetic notion will flash by like a beautiful stranger in a crowd, and if i’m lucky i’ll hang onto it long enough to remember her name. But not enough to tell a story, not yet. i still remember when i found my ending for that last story, genuine ‘light bulb’ moment, and everything clicked into place. But i was half way through the relationship by then, so maybe i’m trying to hard to find Miss Right, when i can have Miss Right Here. (i know it’s normally Right Now, but that was a link to the last story.

I’m ambling and rambling here, so forgive me if this metaphor has become horribly strained. But it’s helping me, and that’s what this little world we call OD is all about, right?

Maybe i’ll look back on my limited entries so far, my previous relationships both physical and fictional, and find what i’m looking for.

But just now, i’m going to bed. Alone.