That Cursed Writers Block
There was something lurking in the deepest, darkest realm of my head. My eyes lit up as the possibility of that idea flashed before them. It was grandiose! I twisted and turned in my bed, losing sleep as it kept pounding hard against my skull.
I jumped out of bed and ran to my computer, anticipating the moment that those thoughts were to be revealed on screen. I turned on the computer and waited impatiently for it to boot up. All the while, my fingers hovered over the keyboard waiting for the moment I can get that “idea” out of me.
My eyes lit up as the possibility of that idea flashed before them. It was grandiose!
But, the moment came, and -- to my horror -- that kernel of a thought slipped further into farthest corner of my mind. It was stubborn, defiant, and it kept agitating every attempt I took to fetch it. It was as if that thought held me in its trance to torture me.
I got up from my seat, paced the room and then headed for the kitchen. Maybe a little alcohol would pry it loose. So, I grabbed a bottle of beer and downed it. The alcohol lightened my head, but it didn’t free that thought.
I sighed as I rubbed my forehead. I did that when I was trying to concentrate.
Then, that hidden idea – that idea that was such a revelation that it tore me from a good sleep – started knocking again.
Sometimes, a great idea hits hard and fast.
Type it on the computer
In record time and
That great idea
Wasn't so great
That's when you have to cut ties
To your baby
And let it float away on the cyber waves
Of the internet sea
The only justice for this false gold
Is to put it back in the grounds of oblivion.
With a simple touch
Of the delete key
Again, my eyes widened in the darkness. I rushed to the computer and started to type.
Words came out fast – so fast that I wasn’t reading what was coming out. After several hundred letters, I stopped to see what this grand idea was.
To my horror, it didn’t make sense. It was cryptic and disparaging, at best.
I slouched in the chair and let out a disappointing sigh. I had nothing.
What a lonely feeling I had at that time. What a disappointment. I had all those tools at my disposal: the computer, the beer, and concentration. In the end, it was not enough to elicit that well hidden thought from its hiding place.
I turned off the computer and shuffled back to my bed. Writer’s block had defeated me.
Just then, as I headed for slumber, a thought flashed through my head. I opened my eyes.
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© 2014 Dean Traylor