Wheels and Gears That Turn
How I view my inspiration working.
I stare at the blank paper and it stares back. It stares back as mocking as my sibling's can be. The idea of writer's block is bad enough without the medium that you are to work your magic with teasing you for your insufficient progress.
My eyes unfocused as I try to get the gears in my brain to turn and the lazy gerbil to get running on the wheel of ideas.
My muse took an unscheduled vacation in distant black hole; is snickering at my expense as she sips mojitos and flirts with my ever decreasing attention. Neither wishing to return any time soon.
I rub my hands against my face as a frustrated sigh escapes my lips. I am going nowhere fast.
I glance over at the wall farthest from me. As I look at is it was like lightening struck the imagination machine within my head and the cogs begin to move.
Slowly at first then gaining speed like a run away locomotive. The energy forces the lax gerbil to move to keep from being injured by the motion of the wheel it was on.
Suddenly, I put the pencil to the paper and words being their flow from one onto the other. The pencil doing it's harsh ballet from one side of the pad to the other.
The gears and wheels slow down as ideas from the well dry up. Slowly they grind to a halt like a rusty, old machine until they completely stop flowing from the pencil onto the parchment before me.
The merry jig the pencil had been doing on the stack of papers stops and then lies down as if exhausted from its movement. The inspiration is used up....