No longer do I wake with plot ideas brimming. Instead, the once active muse continues to lie dormant after an extended period. Attempts to pollinate my inspiration wither on the vine in sterile soil. A tiny Haiku feels like a big accomplishment (though I guess that’s okay to some degree, as it is at least a form of creation).
The frustrating this is that many months ago I wrote with furious intensity at every opportunity. Pages of notebooks filled up with penned stories that I later transferred to computer. Sheets of print-outs stacked on the passenger seat of my sedan allowed editing at long traffic lights. I’d reread while on the NordicTrack making further, if sometimes difficult to decipher, notes of improvement.
Minor elements twined together to sprout unforeseen branches for ever-growing characters. I began to feel as if I’d been possessed by some benevolent spirit sharing stories from the afterlife. Now, when I have more time to devote to writing than ever, the field is barren.
Enough of the self indulgent puns, however. As a wise friend pointed out, life ebbs and flows like the tide (Thanks for that uplifting remark, A. Catherine Noon! What goes out must come in, eh?). The author in me seems to be stuck in winter, but no season lasts forever (Okay, one more pun).
I’m going to try starting fresh each morning, perhaps assigning each weekday with a particular goal. Mondays could be devoted to reading those short stories moldering in a binder. Tuesdays can be spent working on blog material, which I’ve neglected. Wednesday might be time to develop new ideas, whether for a virgin project or an unfinished one.
Before I go on, let’s just say that I’ll have to find what works. In the meantime, I hope you don’t stagnate in whatever you desire to achieve.
Now let’s go create!
Maybe I’ll scribble down a Haiku before logging off…