Is there anything more intimidating than a blank canvas? This morning I clicked my mouse on the blue “W” icon located on my lower task strip and my computer flashed for a second as it interpreted my command and faithfully brought up a page with some funny-looking symbols on top and the vast majority of the page bathed in pure white. There, at the upper left margin, blinked my inexorable enemy, the cursor. At a speed slightly slower than my own heart, I could hear it beckon; I sensed it mocking me. Well, come on, you claim to be a writer… prove it.
Suddenly, the thoughts stopped. Now, what was that great idea I had in the middle of the night that offered a credible solution for my unfinished story about BillyB that sits mired in oblivion? I really need to recognize that my recall has been recalled, that I can no longer make a mental note to store information and hope to re-create it on a whim. My number one source for story ideas, my unconscious, has either burned out or rusted shut.
It’s probably not much of a loss, actually. Judging from the response rate here on my blog, no one will notice, and that’s okay, too. I guess I’m just tired.
Sayonara, Reader-San, it’s been real.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
At least you had an idea in the middle of the night! I used to get those--sometimes in the shower--ways to solve writing problems I had created. Lately my solution has been to not create the problems to begin with, if you know what I mean.
Hi, Diane...
Sadly, I do know what you mean. Of course, for a writer, to not have the problems being created is, in and of itself, a problem.
Post a Comment