Something happened....

I'm not quite sure what. After waffling for the last few years about continuing writing as opposed to some other creative outlet, I'm suddenly infused with new life--as a writer. Maybe it was the tarot cards telling me I had not made a sufficient commitment to learning what I needed in order to move forward as a writer (it's a constant growth process, and like all growth, has built-in pain). Or now that the process of getting the novel published and dealing with marketing has subsided, I'm in an easier place. I don't know.
Anyone who has written a novel knows how incredibly dogged the production of it is--and historical novels not only require story-telling, but good research skills (and editing, editing, editing). Since I spent so much time going over and over Shaketown; the Madam's Daughter before its publication, I spent little or no time actually delving into the mysterious activity of letting ideas and memories flow from my brain to the page. Without that, the real pleasure of writing for me--the marveling of the power and beauty of words, the act of actually creating a mental picture using them--simply wasn't happening.
I picked up Ursula LeGuin's book on writing, Steering the Craft, which is a compendium of her lectures on the topic. Is it the best book on writing I've ever read? No, but I love her strong opinions, and there are gems. One of the first exercises brought me back to my senses, literally: a short paragraph using onomatopoeia (words that sound like what they describe, such as "boom!"), alliteration (repetition of sounds), repetition, made-up words, whatever--just be gorgeous. This is what I wrote:
Spring: shimmer, shatter, soften, sink and flow. Icey thin, sun-softened snow responds to pond below. Weakened, web-woven, wanting oneness sinking into sparkle sparkle sparkle land-lapping glow.

You try it....