Writing in the Middle of Rain

I learned yesterday that if I never start it, I never will.  The voice I've been looking for to write has been found and I follow her voice on a separate page for she likes to write "in the middle of rain".  It's not yet a book but it must be something.  It's definitely a memoir of sorts.  Fragments of memories I'm sorting through and trying to understand as she looks at the pieces and picks out her tune.  

Her name is Soleil Laville.  And I write from her thoughts and the way she perceives mine.  I wrote for more than 5 hours yesterday until I've fallen asleep to the sound of the rainstorm.  It's been interesting.  Taking down the rhythm in her rush of words.  I feel like I'm being introduced to myself once again.  I cannot completely say what that is like but it's definitely a discovery and one that I hope I'll not be tired of pursuing.  

It's interesting I never thought I'd start to see all these "voices in my head" as "friends".  Is this how a writer always lives in his mind?  I still can't describe what it's like to suddenly find a world within worlds.  Like I've discovered a neighborhood in a city that hasn't been on the map.

I'm going to be writing about the process of writing this supposed memoir in another page.  It helps me stay focused enough to capture the message.  Writing In the Middle of Rain thoughts will be found here.

So pray for me.  If you will.  That I remain to have the courage to listen to the work and let it take over.  Even in the middle of all other duties and obligations.  Even in the middle of frustration and toil.  Even in the middle of rain.  

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