The Spirit Moves Me
©2014 Nancy L. Stanford
When Molly George sat down at the desk, she knew, of course, that she was supposed to be working. The problem was, Molly could not seem to focus. She was constantly being distracted and she had no motivation to charge through the distractions.
Molly was a writer who had seen her work rejected so many times over the years, she questioned her talent. She questioned the reasoning behind even attempting to write and she questioned the practicality of constantly pursuing something so unreliable. But despite all the questioning, Molly could not stop her writing.
The young woman wrote everything from short character sketches to long, involved novel length stories, but had never published anything. She had been writing for years with no sign of public acknowledgement. She had put her efforts out there for friends and family to read and had even asked for feedback, but none came. She had posted a few items on Facebook and had nearly begged for comments and had received none. So why did Molly continue?
Molly needed to write. She saw her writing as just as necessary as breathing. Even when she only wrote a short paragraph, Molly felt the surge of pleasure in creating something which had not existed before. She felt the elation of sharing a part of her soul, even if no one else ever saw it.
So now, she sat at her cluttered desk with a blank screen in front of her. Many writers, she knew, began with an outline or a very carefully worked out scenario before they ever put their fingers to the keys, or pen to paper, but Molly could not work that way. She had discovered early on she had no talent for following such rigid guidelines. She could only go with what came to her. She often simply wrote a title and let that guide the rest of the piece. Sometimes it came out very well, and other times it was good only for quick deletion.
Today, Molly had no idea what she would write, knowing only that she would. She had turned off the television and the radio and sat in complete silence, but quickly realized that would not work well. The silence was too unsettling.
Walking across the room, the young woman brushed her auburn curls from her face. When reaching the radio, she chose a station of soft rock favorites. She purposely kept the volume low and prayed it would help. As she sat down again, the voice on the radio began talking about a new app. He called it the Ghost Finder. Molly found herself immediately distracted from her writing. She reached for her cell phone and pulled up the mentioned app. When it came up, she hit the button that read “install”. Once installed on her phone, Molly brought it up. In only a matter of moments, there were little green dots all over the screen which was supposed to mean there were that many spirits around her. Part of the app were supposed to actually give voice to words the spirits would “say”. Molly didn’t really believe in such a thing, but she enjoyed such things for entertainment. As she watched the green dots move around, there was a sudden voice.
“Language.” It said in a female monotone. Molly shrugged. Mere seconds later, the same voice said “story” and then almost immediately “do”.
Molly sat back quickly. She was suddenly fighting with her logical mind which told her the app was just a silly game. The voice had told her exactly what she needed to hear. She DID need to get to writing.
Molly decided that she would accept the words as real. She didn’t care if the app was a game, it was telling her what to do and it was right.
From that day, Molly would open the ghost app and place it on her desk when she sat down to write. She would then devote all her time to creating her world of words. She didn’t want to disappoint her spirit guides, as she had begun to think of them. At the end of the first month, Molly had finished the first draft of a story she had toyed with for several years. She knew that the hard part now began. She would have to edit and rewrite.