The Beginning

The Beginning

Staring out the window. I do this often. I pretend it’s because it’s such a great view, calms me down, helps me get my thoughts in order.

It is a great view. My apartment is in a tall brick building in the middle of a large city. There’s a wonderful view out that window, I’ve seen it a million times. However, from my desk, there is a small view. A wire, one wire running from a pole somewhere below, up to our roof. Beyond that, just sky. I find it helps me concentrate, just staring out at the sky. My sky. I’m supposed to be writing.

I was sitting there, pen in hand, and as usual, paper spewed across my desk. I was waiting for inspiration, or an idea, anything… I get made fun of all the time. I do have a computer and I use it! I just like to start on real paper with a real ink pen. Shades of my grandmother, the real writer in our family. Anyway, I saw something move, something on the wire.

My apartment is pretty far up, twelfth floor actually, we don’t get many squirrels up here. Curious enough, I got up and walked over. It was just a wad of paper, caught enough to blow its way up the entire cable. Just as I arrived in view, the wind caught it and it finally blew off, off into the city. It went quite a distance before it let go, gently floating back to the ground.

That was my inspiration. I sat back down and wrote my first successful children’s book. My story teller, a leaf, floating from story to story in the big city.

As I sat there writing, I swear I heard my grandmother laugh. Thank you, Grammie.