Chaos of Creativity
Being creative is not neat. It is not tidy. There is no linear circuit or smooth straight pass on the road to imagination. It is messy-much like a teenager's room with the rumpled bed, hidden Twinkies, beloved stuffed animals, loud music, secret diaries with tiny keys and your favorite faded jeans rescued from mom's ironing board. My writing room (which I share with my husband Rick, who is also a writer) is stuffed with piles of books and magazines, file cabinets, two computers, two printers, cork boards covered with writing charts, cards and colorful fantasy/science fiction prints. My desk is clogged with overstuffed notes and chapter drafts, little dragons and pewter figurines of sorceresses and stuffed animals. Stacks of Cd's teeter by the stereo to provide inspirational music for battle scenes. But it is within this condensed madness that my mind flows clear. It is my imagination wellspring that draws out of stories I type out, even when my cat Duncan insists on he...