I’m standing in a vast field covered in snow. Somehow I have ended up here without making any foot prints in the white powder. Around me on all sides are paths that lead into the trees. Some drop lower, like they are running on stream beds. Others climb steadily to the mountains I can see in the distance.
I don’t know which path to take.
This is how I feel about my writing at this moment. I’m in the middle of so many options, and I’m not sure where to go next. Everything looks gorgeous and promising.
I will take a step and leave a footprint in the snow. Maybe I’ll wander over and look down several paths, writing my steps into words and then back tracking to the center again. Maybe I’ll travel several paths and find they loop back to this place. Maybe I’ll take one, and it will carry me over the hill.
The secret, though, is to pick a path and go. I can’t stand still. If I do, my story will freeze solid and become unmovable except by the flame of restarting. So I must keep moving.
One step. One word. One footprint.
What do you do when you have many paths to travel in your writing? How do you choose? What does this place look like in your mind?