I'm finally back from Bali.
I stayed in the hotel and roamed around, did some shopping, and when I finally set foot on the beach, it felt...
Somehow I felt like I should go to Bali to release the stress welling up inside me, with this naive thinking that I would be able to write once I was there. But the few words I could manage were lousy short stories that couldn't even pass my test. I mean, where had my senses gone? How come I could no longer find my muse and keep writing? It had nearly been a year, and I was tired of waiting.
I felt the waves crashing on my feet, licking my calves with half wet sand and the wind was fluttering in my face.
At that moment I knew exactly how Ai felt.
I want to write about characters I care about.
I want to be able to identify myself in the characters.
I want to write characters I like, even though I don't always agree with them I will find them leading their own stories, taking me with them and I will no longer direct what they want to say or do.
That's how I think I find my passion back.
I'm gonna start rearranging my deadlines, and get working :)
I really hope.. my muse is back.