Confessionget this off my chest.
I'd like to say I wrote this story,
but it really wrote itself.
It demanded to go one way
when I wanted to go the other.
It was stubborn,
uncooperative
immovable.
If I didn't follow the story
then we never got anywhere.
It said things unexpected.
It did things I never thought of
and went in entirely different directions.
Maps were useless,
schedules ignored,
the story was in charge, not me.
Sometimes I couldn't figure out what
the story wanted,
nothing I tried worked.
But I kept trying.
I kept at it.
Early mornings, while eating lunch, after dinner, late into the night.
The story couldn't be left unfinished,
it needed an ending, of some sort.
Conversations needed to be spoken,
actions taken,
the end written at the end.
Now, it wants to be shown off,
copied, reproduced, distributed and read
It is very bossy, I know.
Would you like to see it?
