Speaking Of Fire ...

🙋‍♀️

Hola, my friends!

So, speaking of fire, I was asked a question. It was ...

If you could define your writing career in terms of one of the stages of fire, which would it be and why?

Basically, this is a hot question. 😄 See what I did there? I amuse myself.

Now, time to answer it. In the famous words of Nephew Tommy, "Buckle up and hold on tight. We got it for you ...!"

My beloved friend and co-author, Y. Correa, who is the maister of all things science and would turn this question into a science project. I am not going to endeavor to answer this question in a scientific manner. After all, I'm not the most scientific person anyway. I am going to respond to this question with my heart and feelings. I may throw in some metaphors as well. Okay, here we go.

Let's start with the following:

What does fire mean to me?

Apart from being the perfect means of roasting a marshmallow, it signifies a myriad of levels and emotions in my writing life. To try to encompass my entire writing career with a single stage of fire would be to lie. That's not my cup of tea.

My writing career has been like a perennial roller coaster ride. Up and down and all around. Just like fire, if you think about it.

Fire is nothing if not passè and eternal simultaneously. While contradictory, it is also fact. Bear with me, I promise this will make sense by the end.

Speaking Of Ignition

How many of you can recall the very first time you felt that spark of inspiration that made you want to get up and do something, whatever that was?

I know you know what I am talking about. That momentary NEED to get up and DO that one that was calling your name. Whether that was draw a picture, make a sculpture, create something ... in my case, write.

I remember it like it was just yesterday.

I was sitting there reading a favorite book when I heard that little voice inside that said, "Rose, you can do this! You've always wanted to! Go! Run! Write!" It was a calling like no other. That spark that I knew would grow into a wildfire if I gave it way. Which, at the moment, was exactly what I intended on letting it do. I wanted the fire to consume me. I wanted to lose myself in the engulfing sensation of bliss and conflagration.

Speaking Of Expansion

Once that sparked started, the fire was a rearing. I sat at that desk, turned on the computer, opened up that Microsoft Word, and started to type away. The first lines that came to me were;

"A dull roar. That was all I could hear. Souls. That was all I could see. What was this that I was living? If you could call it living at all. I did not see people, but shadows. I did not feel life, but death. I did not feel emotions, but emptiness.

I did not feel... anything.

It was all a blur. Clustered together in an array of colors and shapes. The sound? That dull roar, it was difficult to make out."

It was Azriel's voice, the main character.

Inevitably the expansion grew into maturation.

Speaking of Maturity

Now I was irrevocably on fire. That spark had turned into a flame, which without fail, consumed me. At this point, I couldn't stop. Furthermore, I didn't want to. I needed, at all costs, to finish this story. It was now out of my control and completely in my control all at once.

Just like the levels of fire—a tangible but surreal oxymoron.

The characters had taken control and the flames were ablaze. But guess what? I loved it! Every second of it was unmitigated joy. I'd suddenly come alive. This was the real me—unfiltered. A goddess creating an unknown world where I was the driver being guided by its passengers. This was who I was always meant to be. Moreover, the only place I wanted to be now and forever.

Ravaged, ravished, reborn, roaring and relishing.

Speaking of Blight

What is blight if not the corrosion and decay that is left behind when the fire has finished consuming all that lay before it?

I can't say whether is was the words "The End" or a true loss of gas that made the fire wither down into ashes.

"Ashes to ashes and dust to dust."

Somehow, I lost the vigor I once had to write. Could it have been the fact that the story had come to a close? Possibly the undeniable fact that I'd run myself rampant and the fuel that had been there had evaporated ...? I can't say. But just like the stages of fire, my zeal had wilted.

Speaking of Continuity

If there is one thing that is a core element of who I am, it is tenacity.

I found that all I needed was to take a breath. A break so that I could recoup the reserves I'd lost and with that recess came the re-ignition of my vigor.

So getting back to my initial statement and summarizing this post.

Fire is nothing if not passè and eternal simultaneously.

The one thing that will always remain true is that fire will never become extinct. It is an element for a reason. It's a pivotal part of all things in existence. We cannot exist if fire did not.

Fire eventually dwindles and is reborn. The cycle never ends.

Thus has my writing career been; as passè and eternal as fire.

Writing is an elemental part of who I am, hence it could never completely die. But just like with fire, it can dwindle down for a while and inevitably it will be reborn to consume me again and again. Forever.

Toodles,