A writer is simply a humble journalist reporting on things that happen in a world of fiction

I can only write well after a stormy night. Or when I have slept rather bad. Or if I’m just really under a certain pressure. I must then really defragment my entire head and all the spun webs in it and that is best done while writing.

Yeah, but what if you had a great sleep? And you wake up, slept in and all, and the sun is shining and there is not a cloud in the sky? The newspapers report nothing special, the mailbox is shockingly empty (I had to check the day, it’s not a Sunday?) And the radio just plays normal pop songs.

There are no major issues planned, everything is firmly on track at the workstations and today I’m just business-wise completely dispensable.

Then there is no meaningful story to write! The solution? I score a coconut, then pull on the swimsuit and go to the swimming pool of a nearby hotel and continue my quest there. Perhaps the writer needs some more sunlight?

It turned out it wasn’t the coconut. But that little bit of chlorine next to a swimming pool surrounded by palm trees still does the trick. And the fried rice with seafood for lunch. And fresh pineapple juice. And the index cards that I brought.

From personally experience I have found out that I just can’t write my big story on the go that easily. These index cards to help me with the outline of my novel. Not only for the story lines, but also for the characters and any additional notes. And yet it is still just non-digital, on paper.

(You have probably already seen that heavily jealous-making photo on top of this page. Which makes you crave for a similar position! Well, that’s possible. Just book a flight to down here and realize that can fill up life way different than society is secretly telling you. But I not going to talk about that now.)

That picture. That was my workplace today. The office. Coconut oil scent and sunshine. Very occasionally a little blow tries to move my index cards of the table. Parents let their children out in the pool and once in a while one of their bombs try to reach my office cubicle.

But those few drawbacks probably don’t take away your envy. You just see that pool.

Is it actually productive along that pool? Yes. The cards are filling up with the necessary information. Some get carefully scratched on, or simply torn the harsh way. I find out that I have to discuss some facts of some characters with someone. And some characters in the story do not really exist yet with complete certainty.

In this case it is just a fake casting for a film. Who gets involved and who doesn’t? You do not, you’re too small for a role. Goodbye index card. You do, you are the daughter of the main character and will even get something to say in the piece. And there will be plenty of extra roles, but I’m not really working on them yet now.

The story lines are established. And wherever they connected. Funnily enough, the end is not yet in sight. I still do not know how the story ends! I’ve already talked about this with my partner and I found that I can still go anywhere. To make the right decision about that, I just need a bit more insight on where the story will be near that end.

It’s exciting. To play God. To create your own world, and then discover it myself. Eventually I invent personally who is behind what door and doing what.

For a long time this sort of absolute super total freedom just blocked me. If everything is creatable in your head, where should you start? And how is that what you want to create a story around (no, various stories!) going to be well read and original in the end? I can not do that. I really can not do that.

That was the lazy guy I was. All these nice ideas in my head, but no production with my name on it. Maybe I should use a pseudonym like Paul Procrastination.

The big change came when I was just completely focusing on a world where things happen, with only a certain number of people involved and where only certain things happen that I would write all about. Interestingly enough, a writer is simply a humble journalist reporting on things that happen in a world of fiction.

And instead of opening up the full potential that I could have invented, I just need to make those few events happen to write a report about!

A God who plays journalist at the swimming pool. Who would have thought that? And now I get splashed. Time for a dive in there. Enough for today. It’s your turn now. Below.

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