Friday, June 13, 2014

The Waiting

Sometimes a creative inspiration jolts my mind and words pour out of me, unstoppable as a flood.  Other times, more often than not times, the words are there, aching for release, but cannot yet be set free.  How will I know when the words are ready to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting public?

I sit in the cooking room of my mind, smooth salmon-hued walls surround at all angles.  A massive black pot is before me, bubbling, churning with images and various letters.  Slowly the randomness begins to congeal into a more tangible form.  Images and letters meld into words, sentences and paragraphs.  Even as the story solidifies, it remains pliable so ingredients may be added, subtracted, or folded into each other.

The end result of this boiling and simmering ejects from the pot, maneuvering around the salmon room, bouncing off surrounding walls, searching for an escape hatch.  Finally this concoction zeroes in on me, pouring over my being, daring to drown its creator in a torrent of laughter, tears, horrors, beauty, or whatever comprises the particular story.

When I can no longer resist the story's overwhelming presence is when I know the words are ready.  They flow from me, sometimes as madly as the inspirational jolt, but other times, more often than not times, as gentle as a stream.  So gentle that I occasionally have to give a sturdy push with my mental pole to keep the words moving forward. 


Friday, June 13, 2014


No comments:

Post a Comment