Just Write

 When I'm not writing I wish I was. Which is what I'm doing a lot right now. Wishing I was. I guess that's what happens when you do a bunch of other stuff, and "run out of time to write." But I guess I haven't really run out, I just don't take the time. I should though. I may have excuses like "I need to finish this book I have to review!" or "I have to finish cleaning my room." But the fact is, I have to write. Because if I don't then I'll feel like something very important is missing. So when I get a random idea, I write it down. Because you never know when you might want to expand it. And when I get a scene in my head, I write it down. Because it might be the perfect thing later. So, all this is to say, even if you're writing something that is completely random and has nothing to do with your current WIP, write it if you get the inspiration. I mean... don't start another novel, but if you have a sentence, a quote, or a scene, write it down and store it to use later. You won't regret it in the future when you need a funny line and realize that quirky comment you wrote down six months ago fits perfectly. Because, who knows? It could happen.

 Recently, while cleaning my room I had an idea. Well, in actuality, I found an old notebook with old ideas in it. I read an old idea and BANG! I got a scene in my head. So I sat down and wrote most of that scene down right there. And I'm glad that I did. It may not be perfect, and it may not be a project I'm going to take up for a while, but it is something, and I feel like it has potential. Here is is.

Cassie gulped back the tears trying to escape her eyes. There wasn’t time for crying. She held her oldest and youngest brother hands. They, along with their other brother, created a link that was not meant to be broken.

 “This way,” Tom said, his sixteen-year-old voice full of authority. He led his younger siblings to what looked to be an abandoned barn at the edge of the trees. Once they reached it, they nodded and released each other’s hands.

 Tom looked at all of them. “You guys know the drill. Cassie, you and Terrence scout the building. Samuel, you scout the East perimeter, and I’ll take West. All of you remember: if you hear voices don’t let yourself be discovered. If you can, regroup, if not, stay hidden. Understand?”

 They all nodded, and twelve-year-old Samuel gave his older brother a mock salute. Tom pushed his curly head in one direction, and took off in the other.

 Cassie grasped her eight-year-old brother’s hand. “Come on Terrence. Inside.”

 She placed a finger over her lips, just in case there was someone inside the dilapidated building. They reached the doors. A broken chain hung to the ground. Maybe they weren’t the first to use this place. She pushed on the decaying wood, and the half door swung open easily.

 “I don’t hear anything,” Terrence whispered. She shushed him, and pulled him inside. It was dark, but darkness was good. If there were light she would be afraid.

 They waited, shadowed in the dark for several minutes. But they were used to waiting. When Cassie was satisfied that the silence was evidence of no one being there, she flicked on her flashlight.

 As expected, wooden beams, a ladder to the upper story, and dust met her eyes. There were a couple of draped lumps in the back corner, but she decided the only signs of life were the giant spider webs spanning the ceiling.

 Deciding it was safe enough, she smiled at Terrence. “Shall we take the loft?” He grinned, and turned on his own flashlight. As he scrambled away she shouted after him, “Make sure the ladder is safe!”

 She watched until he had made it to the top of the ladder, and then turned to the lumps in the back. She pulled the coverings off, realizing they were tarps. Beneath was an old tractor, and some other farming equipment, but she was more interested in the tarps. She folded them into two smaller squared, and secured them under her arm. She ascended the ladder in search of her younger brother.

 “Ter?”

 “Over here!” The boy waved his hand in excitement, and she found him sitting on a small stool. “I have my own chair!” He rocked back and forth, showing that one leg was shorter than the others.

 Cassie raised an eyebrow, setting the tarps down. “Well, be careful.”