Nothing to say

Pin It Evening washes over the park behind my house as the moonlight bathes everything in subdued shadow. The usual bustle of daily activity has since died down to the gentle murmur of crickets as the clocks slowly rolls closer to ten.

I discover myself inundated with thought; I find this surprising because I have had nothing to say as of late; and I still don’t. I was talking to a friend of mine earlier this week and I mentioned how I had felt drained, literally parched in the sense of language. I looked at my blog today and realized that I hadn’t written anything on it for one whole week; every time I’d sat down to write something, the words just wouldn’t come.

I had nothing.

So for a little while I’d sit and stare at the paper in front of me, jot down a few things, and then go and do something else. Blogging could wait—it would have to.

So I tonight I write. However, I write not because I have anything of great importance to say, but instead because I feel that I need to—after all, it has been a week.

Thanks for being patient, I hope to return shortly—personality and all.

Blinding whiteness

Pin It My fingers rest upon the keyboard tonight. The cursor blinks incessantly in front of me. It’s taunting me…daring me to write.

I look at all of that white space. It seems so daunting.

So vast.

So empty.

It waits for my words to fill it, to make it become real. So, I write…my fingers groping blindly onward; reaching for the keys that will sound an orchestra of words at my touch.

I play them slowly at first, as if trying on a new pair of shoes. They feel comfortable…it is in this moment that I find peace.

The cursor still blinks as my fingers begin to dance back and forth…feeling the rhythm of the keys before me. Explosions of words now appear where once there was nothing.

As I pause in somber tranquility, the cursor blinks onward. However, it is no longer taunting me…but instead beckoning me onward…instructing me to write until I have squeezed out the final thoughts of which I am capable this eve.

I stand back and gaze at the once-white canvas stretched before me, now arrayed with a multitude of colorful expression.

Tonight I am the artist, the musician, and the call of the muses has been answered.

I am finished.

Writing update - Alone in a room

Pin It I came to the Orem library to work.

I came here to find a few new books on CD which I could listen to while driving during the week.

I also came to write on a few of my stories.

I looked again at the self-publication website and contemplated further what I’d only briefly considered last night.

As I sat here in the “book discussion” room, I found myself alone and removed from the rest of the world for nearly three hours. Three blissful hours of time in which to work…

No distractions.

No bothersome calls

Nobody trying to talk to me.

Writer’s block?

Yes.