So, I’m staring at the blinding whiteness of this new post webpage, while the fan upstairs blows the cooling night air into the sun-drenched house. At the top, right navigation of this page are the words, ”Howdy, neve black.” I nod my head and silently whisper, “howdy to you Word Press; it’s been awhile, eh, cowboy?” The cursor blinks; waiting patiently for my thoughts to reach my fingers; tapping out the letters, making them into words; sentences and conversations: a translation of firing synapses stored somewhere in the past, present and future of my brain. Somehow the thoughts are stymied, as if they’ve been drugged, slipped a Mickey, and each time they want to reach up and out and say something, the fatal blank, nada, zilch rears its ugly head again.
*fingers tap lightly on the keyboard…waiting for the next thought-wave to come*
I suppose it’s fair to say that my writing voice has been a bit silent lately. Oh sure, I still jot story notes down here and there, and do find the extraordinary in the ordinary that life offers me each day – and I know that’s where the heart of each new story begins for me. I read a lot during times of not writing, which is hugely rewarding in of itself. I also watch a ridiculous amount of films (more than usual). I know I have creative juice inside of me: it’s there; percolating and waiting for the right moment to break free from those that want to stifle it. In fact, I was coming out of savasana a couple of weeks’ ago when my eyes fluttered open, and just above me was a very large, but common looking vent sprawled just above my limp and enlightened body. And that’s when the epiphany of a new story idea trapezes itself down from inside the vent’s screen and landed inside my head. I was excited to feel that inspirational calling. I’m not sure if that story idea is worth exploring, but I welcomed it anyway. Oh, and Namaste cold air- return ventilation ducts.
Another reason why I haven’t felt the burning desire to write anything is every since I took my current day job, it feels that my creativity gets sucked dry everyday. So dry that I sometimes feel brittle-bone and nothing short of an epic tidal wave could quench my creative thirst. No, I can’t quit my job. And yes, I am job searching for something… better. The irony of this is that I’m working hard at a job that I hate, so I can get to a place that allows me more freedom to do the things I love to do in life, like write. Go figure is applicable here.
I. Will. Get. There.
*more blank space below…fingers lay heavily on the keyboard…the cursor waits*