Road Trip: My Writing Process

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Blacktop reflects on the rocker-panel of my car and its constant monotonous pattern has been following me for the past 200 miles. The mile markers on the side of the road stand like a line of obedient soldiers at attention to mark my way toward freedom and salute me when I pass. Eventually they become somewhat invisible because the beauty of the background wins my competitive eye and draws me to its splendor. The copper-colored mountains mix with the purple base to form a contrast that compliments the sunset, and the road curves through the giant rocks as if God put His finger down and drew squiggly lines in the malleable sand. When I need to clear my head, I come here. I come to the place where I can valiantly chase down the horizon with the grill of my car—a perilous fight. Only the continuous double yellow line and the white line box me in. I hesitantly look in the rear-view mirror, and see the clouds hanging on the mountains like a smooth white cloth over the back of a crocodile. I pass by the large city signs on the road staring down each and move on like checking off boxes on a to-do list When my car hits just the right angle on the two lane road, the sun reflects on the dried and fresh bug carcasses and they become confetti to celebrate my commencement into my new world. The road knows where I am going, and because I come here so frequently, my tires glide in its parallel-like rails leading me safely to my destination. I don’t know where I am going, but all I know is that I have to get somewhere. I vanish into the calming sound of the wind through the sunroof, taste the mountain air on my tongue, and let the soundtrack of my journey syncopate with my heartbeat. I am miles away from a “home,” but the welcome mat of the ope... ... middle of paper ... ...is being unaccompanied. After all, sometimes the “conversation” can be a little loud and overwhelming. In my writing process I get on the road and let the hum of the engine agree or disagree with my ideas. Solace seeks me out like a bounty hunter. The back window provides an opening to the past and my rearview mirror reminds me to always be mindful of changes. I look forward to each trip and my writer’s Spirit yearns for its dose of creative therapy. My car, my music, and the open road, together we converse in tumultuous harmony to resolve any issues and effectively communicate to our readers. Mark Twain put it best when he stated, "I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them." I have found that despite my areas of improvement and frustrations, I am easy to travel with—all be it by myself.

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