Creativity Smiles

It was wonderful to be creative. Creativity was a blessing. And also a nuisance at times. It required getting everything perfect, until you were satisfied with it, possibly spending twice as long on it than anyone else would, but it usually worked out good. You felt like you had done something very deliberate and very great/ It made you feel good. It made you feel successful. And for those you were creating the creativity for? They'd be happy for you. Probably thank you. A bit of fun, a bit of silliness, put a smile on their face. That's something there needs to be more of in the world.

[108 words]

Wasteful Days

Why is it when you don't do something you should be getting done, your days always seem so wasteful? I mean, even if you feel like you've done things that are productive, if you haven't done that number one thing you were meant to get done, the day is wasted. Not that I can relate to this at all - because I do not feel my day was wasted, more... misused, than anything. My bad. It's not my fault there are so many distractions. Music, videos, stories, music, chatting, friends, houses, fresh air, not so fresh air, heat, hunger. All those outside forces. I shall just blame it on my creative orb that lives outside of me. That way it's not my fault. :)

[124 words]

Overtired Writer

She folded her arms across the desk and lay her head on top of them, closing her eyes for rest as she let out another stifling yawn. The writer was overtired, again, but she couldn't go to sleep. She had to write. But to just rest her eyes for a few moments, that was all. She thought of the story she started exactly two years ago. She thought of it's sequel, what she was hard at work on now. She thought of the amazing climax she would write, and suddenly jerked herself upwards as a less than nice image popped into her head, of how her characters would suceed, or suffer, in that climax. The images were forever playing in her head like a movie, and she knew what her characters meant when they supposedly could not get rid of their horrifying flashbacks. She created them, of course she'd have them too.

She'd been listening to her first lecture today on creative non-fiction, and a non-fiction book had been published on the story of two men sitting on death row. It had killed the person as an author because to finish their book, they needed the execution to take place - to two of these characters... except that these characters were actually real. She'd hate that. At least her's was all make believe. She could convince herself no one was so harsh. But she knew there were those that were.

[240 words]