When I’m riding along the path to work, I take this gorgeous route that leads over wooden bridges, through tunnels of trees, and meanders through a bustling city. It is my inspiration for writing.
What I See.. The dark black asphalt on a hot summers day seemed to radiate heat from every pore. The tunnel of trees that line either side do little to hide the path from the blistering sun. That blinding yellow which tells you which side you belong on as you ride down the seemingly endless path. As a writer, I find that writing stories is much like riding down this bike path. Sure there are plenty of scenic views you could look at, maybe even stop and stay awhile, but ultimately you have to keep moving until you hit the end of the road. When writers become authors they have taken a journey with a series of characters that has meandered up hills down steep slopes and perhaps even off the edge of a few cliffs. There is an adventure in writing that takes you from point a to point b, in a way where the character that begins the story is completely different when you end the journey. It’s the same when you ride down a twisting path to nowhere. You start off, simply excited to be out in the warm sun a cool breeze, then you’re panicking when you see the hill, completing the climb thrills you, because you know you can coast down hill soon. But it winds and bends and looks utterly terrifying. Reaching the bottom is a feat on its own, but you make it, you’re stronger, and you shine with confidence. The achievement of completing the first book, the first short story, perhaps even the first novel, is so overflowing that it takes you to a new level of content. I’m still riding my bike through the uphill battle of my first book, but every time I look up I see the cresting of the top, and can’t wait for the downhill slope.