Chinese Water Torture

My editor had once told me, as buckets of water fell from the sky that I shouldn't worry about my writing.

"Just keep doing what you're doing whatever comes into your head," she said over the largest bowl of coffee I had ever seen, "it's inspirational stuff."

"What was I doing?" I mused aloud but the sky had already stolen the attention with a quake that seemed to rip open even the clouds. I wasn't to know, I suppose. The conversation had changed.

Her words were very reassuring at the time albeit when you're staring at a blank page for two hours waiting for that spark of inspiration, thought, feeling, hell - even a wild goose chase with incoherent banter to jump start the action and yet nothing comes of it, it's genuinely disheartening; the cursor perseveres to tap impatiently like some Chinese water torture. 

In this instance, knowing what to do or having the awareness to propel this over due action could have presented some benefits. Isn't that why we go to schools, universities and push ourselves up those mountains of knowledge?


If I were to recapitulate those days, I repelled the idea of "needing" to install an academic brain to be able to create - to be able to write. I had clasped my "free" pen that I often found multiplying in my bag like the mysterious sea monkey, as though it had been a symbol of freedom. I could do it anywhere, anytime.


Now I write on an expensive laptop, which I have to lug around, with not even a hill of knowledge in sight of how to jump start some tiny little words to form a tiny little thought.


We can certainly convince ourselves of the most incredible things...


I think its time for another bowl of coffee.


Until next time...