As I begin to write my assignment for Thursdays class my mind slowly drifts off to thoughts of what’s for dinner. It becomes hard to focus on my assignment as I stare at the screen releasing a big sigh. I’m not at all obsessed with food since I quit smoking I say under my breath.
Creativity burns deep inside me waiting to funnel out, it lies there like a snake curled up and waiting to strike. Slowly it begins to rise up reaching for the surface choking me when it reaches my throat, stuck there like a bone stuck in the throat of a dog. The words want to flow but are stuck and when released will pop out like the cork on a champagne bottle when first opened.
The words flow strongly now as the story springs forth from me. Feel its urgency as it demands to be written/told people are waiting for it and the bookstores want it on the shelves, they are calling it to come, to be written. Just write the damn story and be done with it, people need to feel what you feel, how you experience it and how the soul cries out in pleasure and pain. Write the story, just write the damn story, every agonizing and tremendously happy minutes of it.