As I'm sure most writers do, when I write - I visualize. Usually that vision changes based on the time, my mood or other factors surrounding me in my daily life but when I write for Info Barrel, I have a very particular vision and for the most part it's always the same.
It's not one I expect anyone else to share or sympathize with, how could you? What I see is in my mind and if you can see it, well - get out of my head :P For those that can't read my mind though, I thought it would be nice to share my vision with you.
Perhaps in doing so it may encourage others and inspire them to share their vision when writing for Info Barrel. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, perhaps that's true. But as I can't see your eyes, a polite alternative might be for you to simply share what you see when you write.
When I write for Info Barrel I see myself entering a room. It's large, with book cases filled with books lining the walls. The room has strategically placed lounge chairs here and there in groups of two or three with small side tables nearby.
The ceiling is high making the room feel larger than it really is. There are two very tall leaded glass windows that give a peek outside. The sun streams in softly, not intrusively. It's cold outside, but the room is warm. Cozy. There's a fireplace opposite the windows and a small fire is going.
There are many Info Barrel members here. Some old and familiar faces, some new. A few people are sitting by themselves diligently writing, others are sipping tea or coffee and chatting amongst themselves. As I make my way through the room people nod in my direction or welcome me with a warm smile.
We're all here for the same reason, to enjoy the atmosphere, comfort and community of a place that for a time we call home. I'm here to work today so I find a chair near the fire and stretch my feet towards the warmth.
I unfold my laptop, power it up and as I wait for it to boot - I listen to the sounds of the room around me. The sound of the breeze outside, the soft conversation around the room and the occasional crackle of the fire. As I begin to write, they fade into my subconscious as a kind of calm relaxing hum.
My focus narrows, the keyboard begins to click click click as my thoughts flow from the imaginary to the digital and a new creation is made. I lay my head back and close my eyes. Calm, relaxed. From out of nothing came something by my own hand. Whether I share it with a select few, the world at large or no one but myself I have participated in the act of creation.
As I slowly open my eyes, I see others experiencing the same thing. Creating, exposing little pieces of themselves and I marvel and wonder at what they too have brought into the world. Will they keep it to themselves? Will they share? I imagine only time will tell.