I lightly tread the shallow end of the creativity pool. The concepts for stories have the depth of a surface level conversation. The characters can’t think beyond their one uninspired goal. Uninspired, yeah, that’s the word for the shallow and mundane part of the pool. Small pool toys pass me by, old ideas that I somehow finished. Each one took on a slightly different silhouette against the shallow waters, yet were actually a carbon copy of each other. I wanted to push them underneath the surface of the water, forget they ever happened. But each time I’ve done so to attempt to tread toward the deeper end of the pool, they slowly float back to the surface, blocking my passage.
With a frustrated grumble, I wade toward the stairs of the pool, right on the edge of the shallow end of the pool. Along the stairs are my various outlines. They seemed so strong before, as if they could carry my story concepts and I all the way to the success of depth. Yet with each attempt to flesh out the outline into one of the small pool toys, I found myself further entrenched in the shallowness of this end of the pool.
I looked at one of the pool toys that had been with me for the longest time. It was still close to the shallow end, but it was a little closer to the deep end than the others. I carefully cupped it in my hands, or at least tried to. It’s edges hung over my fingers; unlike the others which rested in my palms with frustrating ease. I walked along the floor of the pool, the water that once clung to my hips was now treading along my stomach. I looked back, the other toys further way. I looked down at the toy I had brought with me and saw that I couldn’t see my hands or wrists.
It had grown. The little toy concept wasn’t quite as small. I could see what resembled characters and an overarching plotline. I walked forward again, scooping the water from the deeper end of the pull over the toy. I had to cradle the toy along my forearms to keep steady as the water reached my chest. I kept walking forward, making adjustments as needed. By the time I reached the deep end of the creativity pool, I could no longer touch the floor and had to kick my legs to stay afloat. Or at least I would have, had it not been for the pool toy that I had cradled along the water. The toy, was no a successful float. I was able to sit atop it, finally able to rest easy with a genuinely finished concept.
I guess this is a optimistic vent piece. Anyway, hope it was enjoyable for anyone who happens to come across this.