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Crows on Clouds

I remember helping a friend at a local arts magazine name a column “Crows on Clouds.” I had been sitting at my desk one morning, staring at a blank screen, waiting for inspiration, when I noticed a murder of crows outside my window. They were bickering and gliding on a thermal, and it reminded me that a page, with letters, looked very much like crows on clouds.

This morning, I caught a solitary crow, catching thermals. The artistry, the beauty of the moment, without so much as a flap of the wing, made my heart sing and very grateful to be alive. I had to capture an image, and the crow obliged me. Needless to say, I was jealous of the effortless flight, but I was glad I captured the simple moment as the story unfolded before my eyes.

Writing is a lot like gliding on a thermal – at times. The story emerges and all is right with the world. Sometimes, though, a story can be like being in the middle of a tornado, or in a still world with no wind. Equally as frustrating. So it goes for people who pursue stories.

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