Writing When You Don’t Feel Like Writing
A Story About Trying to Find Inspiration
I sat down to write my best prose but I felt stuck like hair in the drain of the shower. The shower is where I do some of my best writing. But sometimes, I do not have the stomach to reach into those swirling depths and pull at the stubborn stands that cling and clog the flow of water. So instead, I distracted myself in the kitchen. I became immersed in courgettes on a chopping board. I watched wistfully as water simmered and boiled on the stove. I sprinkled sea sat and stirred with the long handle of a spoon. I melted frozen sundries in a pan and doused it with sweet, sticky sauce. I wish I could describe the aromas.
But I could not write even a fragment of the sensations digesting inside me. Even after voyages to the couch and eating on the couch and gazing out the window from the couch. The rain had just started and I needed newness. I walked around the block, not once but twice. After I returned to the apartment, I shook the sky-water from the fabric of my jacket into tiny droplets on the linoleum.
I have been trying to challenge myself: write more, write today, write again tomorrow. Be persistent. Make attempts, however awkward, however clumsy.
Like last night, I went for a walk to the park. There were skateboarders akimbo and seagulls squawking in the sky. One of the birds was more eager than…
