Once upon a time a brilliant idea popped into her head and got stuck there. This brilliant idea dug its way into her brain, where it blossomed into perfectuality, it buried itself into her heart, until it became her emotions, and where lastly, it stuck itself into her soul so that she became the living, breathing, incarnation of this idea.
But there is always something frightening about a brilliant idea. It has the power to render you powerless, stupefied mid-air, paralyzed against the first leap, that first hurl into the air. Your stomach is seized, your brain injected with encompassing thoughts. Most brilliant ideas dies after this, but those that succeeds has taken the first step to make it stronger.
Sometimes a brilliant idea can bind you by it's sheer geniuseness, like reading a piece of literature and having to put it down because of that leap of bravery and rawness. The way the text explodes and disperses.
This idea that seized her, made her pick up the pen. In the margin of her notebook she begun to record it down, writing first the simple sentence, "a brilliant idea has struck fear into my heart." And going on and on, the entirety of the margins of the notebook became filled. If writing had been hard and laborious, she did it, hunching over for pen to meet paper. The brilliant idea who overcame fear came to life.
Posts
This reminds me of Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke...
I'll have to read that. I got this idea from Virginia Woolf and Roland Barthes.