Yesterday was my deadline for beginning to write the next draft of my novel, after months of re-plotting, restructuring, re-everything. I wasn’t quite ready to sit down and do it: the task of writing actual manuscript words, facing the reality of having to actually execute the story in my head, felt incredibly daunting. The night before, I was frozen in fear.

Then yesterday morning, the universe gave me a gift: I woke up singing “Pure Imagination,” from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I typically wake up with songs stuck in my head (the day before it was “You’re A Grand Old Flag”), but this one didn’t feel random, even though I hadn’t thought of that song or movie recently. It felt like an omen, a portent of the day to come: Writing Day was upon me, and I was embarking on the journey to bring my imagination to life.

Before I began working, I wanted to hear the song outside of my head. I looked it up on YouTube. I aimed my cursor at the first entry (which is the song segment from the movie, featuring the incomparable Gene Wilder) and nearly clicked when my eyes spotted something else further down the list: the “Official Music Video” of this song sung by Josh Groban. My inner fangirl squealed; I had no idea that he performed this song.

I clicked on that entry instead, and his soothing, dulcet baritone washed over me as I internalized the lyrics, the message. This beautiful song was made even more enchanting through the vocals of one of my favorite singers, and now I have two writing-inspiration songs from him to gear me up for my writing days (that and “Brave,” which I talked about in a previous post). I immediately rushed out to buy it from iTunes (streaming music is great for the occasional listen or discovery of new songs, but it’s important to support the artist and buy those that become a staple in our musical libraries).

Sitting down to write, I felt that pang of fear again. This is for real. I thought back to those honest, simple lyrics and reminded myself that all I’m doing is playing. Think of my world and write it, record the dance of my characters. Live in my imagination, and the story will flow. Don’t concentrate on words; the revising comes later. Be free.

It will be a daily (perhaps hourly) reminder until I break through and cast off my inner editor, but I’m thrilled to have found a tool that helps me access that pure side of storytelling. Music touches us in ways that nothing else does, lifts our spirits and lets us soar. I’m grateful to the universe, my subconscious, whoever or whatever put the song in my head, for the reminder that what matters is the story. I’m trying to share my imagination with the world, and that first draft is a free-for-all in just getting it onto the page. Polishing and shaping will come later; right now, I need to have fun and play in my universe, and then translate that emotion into words. If I’m agonizing over how the story is being told right now, then I’m not feeling my way through it—and my readers won’t either. Kind of defeats the whole point.

Books and written stories are unique in their dependence on cooperative creativity: the writer of course is sharing her thoughts, story, and imagination through words, but it’s up to the reader to use his own imagination to create images from those words, to fill in the gaps of what isn’t explicitly stated, to connect the dots and make leaps of intuition. It’s a partnership, a give-and-take; just one that is fortunate enough to not have limitations on proximity or time. When I read books of authors past, I feel like I am continuing their conversation. I want my readers to feel the same about my stories. I want them to live in my world the way I do, enjoy and play in it. That first requires getting out of my own way and letting the story just be instead of trying to restrain it with cleverness and polish.

There is no

Life I know

To compare with pure imagination.

Living there, you’ll be free,

If you truly wish to be.

[For a perfect storm of awesomeness, here’s a clip I discovered during my song search: the Muppets, Josh Groban, Lindsay Sterling, “Pure Imagination,” and cake. Doesn’t get any better than that.]