During my freshman year of college, my parents came to visit during Parents’ Weekend. I showed them around campus, ate with them in the cafeteria and was really excited when they took me out to dinner.
While we were eating in the cafeteria, I grabbed some milk to drink, as I always did. Seeing this, my mom smiled and asked my friends is I always drank milk or if I was doing it as a concession to her being there. They confirmed that I always drank milk. Always.
As silly as it sounds, it wasn’t until that moment that it occurred to me that I could drink something else with dinner. There was tea, Coke, juice, water…and I always drank milk (granted, I was a rebel and went for the 2% instead of the skim I was raised on). After my mom left, I went hedonistic-ly crazy with the Coke.
Flash forward to today. I have milk with dinner almost every night because I want to, not because it’s been drilled into me. I like it and it’s good for me. We’ve been without milk for a week and I’m getting twitchy.
Writing is like milk.
I’ve always written stories as they come to me. While I’ve heard of people plotting stories in advance, it wasn’t until I read Save the Cat that I got new ideas on how I could create and craft a story plot first. I’m trying it out. Unlike drinking Coke with dinner, I think writing outlines and using a board to catalogue scenes is good for me. However, not writing-writing is making me twitchy. I need to get back to writing soon.