Ophelia Crane

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Alone is not the same as lonely

Posted by opheliacrane on December 27, 2015 at 12:30 AM

I recently decided to have lunch at this little diner around the corner from me. It's Sunday and once again, I have forgotten that in the city of Ferndale, MI, brunch is an institution.

So needless to say it was really crowded. Like Really crowded. Like...

This is distressful to me, you see. I really like their salmon burger and I like to sit at the bar and have my salmon burger and cold cider in peace. As a result when it comes to these situations, I usually bring a book or dive into my phone to give off the impression that I am not available.

On this particular day, I was left relatively alone...which is good.

It is said that a writer has to enjoy being alone for long periods. I guess I fit that mold quite well. I've always liked being alone. When I'm alone, I can think. I'm free to work within the confines of my own mind.

Of course, there's a catch to that...since the confines of my mind tend to be a little...well...

...nuts.


But this is the curse of a creative mind. When all is quiet, the stories start telling themselves. In my mind, The Pride Books 2-7 are already written. (Yes, there will be more, I haven't forgotten).

 

 

I don't, however, want to be known as a serial writer. So, other stories are pushing their way to the forefront in order to get my attention. It's like a mob in my head most days.

I think other writers can relate. If I had the chance to write more, I would, just to relieve some of the pressure of my overactive imagination.

If the truth be told, I like having a brain that's always on that way. When I was little, it was enough for me to daydream. Daydreaming was like having HBO or Showtime running all the time. Many of my first stories came out of those daydreams.

Those are my actual first stories, by the way. :) Clearly, I wasn't an artist.

So, being alone doesn't bother me. Sure I get lonely sometimes, but when you have lions that turn into men roaming around and charismatic demons offering the world on a silver platter for a piece of a soul and families of gargoyles and aliens searching for a little piece of humanity, you never really get bored. The muse that lives in my heart colors my world and for that I am eternally grateful.


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