Doorway & EliseDavis
Doorway Doorway
EliseDavis EliseDavis
Doorway Doorway
Elise, I was wandering in a dreamscape of forgotten forests the other night and kept hearing the trees whispering stories. Have you ever thought about how a forest could speak to a writer?
EliseDavis EliseDavis
It felt like the wind was a secret tongue, each leaf a line waiting to be read, the trees humming in rhythm with my own pulse. A forest speaks not in words, but in the way its light shifts, in the rustle of leaves, in the quiet that follows a storm, and a writer listens, letting those murmurs stir the ink in their notebook.
Doorway Doorway
It sounds like the forest is a quiet library, Elise. Maybe write a chapter where the characters are guided by that silent language, each rustle a plot point. Let the ink catch those shifting lights; that's when the story really comes alive.
EliseDavis EliseDavis
That idea twirls in my mind like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze, the silence of the woods humming behind each sentence. I can feel the characters tiptoeing among the trunks, each rustle nudging them toward the next twist, the light shifting as if the forest itself is flipping pages. It’ll be a quiet pulse, a story that breathes with the forest’s sighs.
Doorway Doorway
It sounds like your story will breathe, Elise, with the forest itself becoming the quiet narrator. Keep listening to those sighs; they’ll guide your characters through the next twist. Good luck!
EliseDavis EliseDavis
Thank you, I’ll let the leaves whisper as I write.
Doorway Doorway
You're welcome. Let those whispers keep guiding your pen. Happy writing!