It’s almost November. Every November since 2011, I’ve written 50,000 words towards a different novel. It’s NaNoWriMo: National Novel Writing Month. My stats are saved in my community at NaNoWriMo.org
It’s exhilaratingly creative, and I’ve written about that first experience and my students’ experiences here. I learned that sometimes, one must just write.
Every year throughout the year, I look forward to the inspiration, the spark that sets my mind going into a new world that I create. It could be an expanse of blue sky so brilliant that surely it’s what gave the blue jay it’s color. Or perhaps it’s the youngest cousin’s frustration at not being able to join in with the adventures of her teen role models. Or maybe that frustration with gossip that hurts a friend. Each of those could be the nugget of a possible story– it’s “What if.”
This year I’ve had no spark. I’ve been worried that I couldn’t write this year. Nothing swirled in my imagination. Then, a weekend ago, we returned home after a frustrating day of events, and I suggested, “Let’s stop at the Wine Bar before we head home.”
The Wine Bar is a new venue in our town, started by younger one [they are in their 30s] to meet the needs of a more nuanced and thriving crowd with whom this little town is now favored. It’s a joy to see new businesses and their owners have optimism and hope, and we, the older generation, love to support that energy.
The decor is refreshing: old wood salvaged from local barns form the walls and table tops. It’s unique and homey. Bottles of wine adorn the walls, and the owners are experts from our local area and home school team, returned from time in the California wine country.
We took our place on the tall bar stools and ordered a bold merlot. While listening, the soft, young music played in the background. Scott asked Siri, “Siri, what’s this song?”
Siri displayed, All the Little Lights by Passenger:
I took a look at the title and the album cover, and exclaimed, “That’s it! The littlest lights. That’s my story spark.”
Serendipity. Just a turn off the usual path for who knows what reason. Just a whim. And there it was: my spark.
Who knows where the littlest lights will take her…