A friend of mine once wrote of how she thinks my greatest fear was to stumble over my letters. To have a spelling or grammatical error in my work that, even though can be reversed with a simple edit, will still stain my image. I was shocked that she knew me that well. I guess it is about that time that I repaid the favour and wrote about her greatest fear (writing wise of course).
Recently I have been under a period of block. I know why I have block and I can’t seem to shake it off. See I have written 99 pieces (at least according to my phone) and I guess I am afraid to write the 100th piece, hence the block. Anyway as those who regularly read this weekly know, I digress. Inspiration to a creative (writer, artist, musician painter etc) is like water to a fish. Without the inspiration a creative person will shrivel up and die and anything that blocks the flow of this inspiration is the enemy and must be trampled under the feet like a cockroach in the kitchen. Without inspiration a creative person is as good as dead block will loom over their heads and cause such a stir that one might even perceive them to be sick (which I guess they are, in theory).
Creativity is an addiction. I will speak from my view as a writer many writers write every piece like it will be their last because you never know where the next inspiration strike will come from. Just like a drug addict who never knows where he will get his last fix a writer rarely knows when the words will have their way with him again. So every piece must be written to perfection down to the last letter so in case it is the last it may be a great legacy to be left behind. But eventually, once the piece is over and done with and calm has been restored, the words do come back. It is a game we play when you think the words have deserted you and you wonder what you may have done to displease them, they return and they do so with such a bang that it would be virtually impossible to ignore them (and why would you even want to).
I told Jay this week. Inspiration is all around you. It is, it’s in the trees, the birds, the sky, the smiles, the cracks in the walls, the stone age computer, the crumpled pillows, come to think about it the dilemma shouldn’t be what to write about but when to stop writing. Someone once told me they got less creative when they grew up “the world grew dull” they told me. No, it didn’t, your sight got worse. So maybe what I’m saying is inspiration, is all in your mind.
P.S #slapyourself if you haven’t figured out my friend’s greatest fear yet.