Feed the magic
From a dinner with writers who know the craft and me listening, making mental notes one fine, hot summer's evening.
‘This is where the magic happens’ He said, ‘When you have a deadline. Never miss a deadline’, And he should know He knows a thing or two! So his words tiptoed off, Hand in hand With my imagination As they usually do with me. The words echoed, Made me question When the magic happens. When the house is quiet, Not mid riot. When chocolate starts to melt It purrs in the heat It loses itself inside its coat Shapeshifts Perfect squares go AWOL. You're free to think To put your thoughts on paper You’re free to write outside When the box isn’t square Anymore. Magic happens, It is real. It’s in the sigh It’s in the fingers Sit, pen to paper And it’s there, Be it queen of hearts or joker, It’s in the headlights, It’s showdown. The question is amiss ‘Does magic exist?’ The question is more, From page four of writing law Do you feed the magic? Ask the taxi driver about his day Let them have their say Sit on the front seat of a bus Hear the passenger make a fuss Shop in the market, Watch the busker for a whole song Get up before the birds, Walk the whole park long, Long enough To hear their story. You can add some colour, The funny thing is Your words unwind You understand, You remember You see new signs You learn the love you have on the inside Only now your story has grown lines to be a thing To be a shape. It morphed From zero To immortal
I know what your saying it’s great to be In awe of your published writers . I so know you want to improve . But you know it’s ok to be a mouse to. Your writing is unique and so very enjoyable.
Im sure that was a useful experience , different points of view from one who knows must always be helpful. A privilege to be there. A different story came across. I enjoyed it will be interesting what you take from this in the future .