September 18, 2012
This is my spot. I come here when I need to write or think, or if I just want a good drive. It’s a nice park, but nothing special. Neither urban nor rural, quiet nor bustling. I wouldn’t have picked it for my spot, but it seems I had no choice. You see, I became a writer here.
I first stumbled into this park five years ago (nearly to the day, as I realized on the way here tonight). It was an evening much like this one, the cooling breeze of the bright, early fall playing with my hair. I came here frustrated with a creative writing assignment that just wasn’t flowing. Somehow I found the inspiration I needed, and I walked out with a rough draft of the piece that would be a creative turning point for me. It’s still, I think, the best thing I’ve ever written. I’d found my sweet spot.