Welcome back,
I know, I know, I know, it's been a very long time and I send my apologies as I have both a lot of assessments with a ladle worth of writers block. But fear not, as I hope to throw together bits and pieces, knicks and knacks of words that will hopefully cure me from this plague of writers block!!
I'm stuck
wedged
constricted by this
overcast of needing to write,
yet, I have nothing.
Like a freshly-painted classroom wall
before the kids come and create;
they draw, whether crude
or imaginative,
and the wall is no longer bland.
Like a pot of boiling water
before the parent drops
everything from the cupboard
with a splash, spray to excite
the simple liquid with
a spoonful of culinary colour.
Like the clean foot paths
and picnic tables,
until Autumn arrives
bringing the breath of falling
leaves to lay
a patchwork of oranges and reds.
I'm still lost
searching for the right
words to string together
and hang upon my walls
to glisten and shine
for others to read.
* * *
Dear Reader,
Yes I bought a typewriter the other day…
I’m hoping it will help me with this little problem I seem to have, where a massive sandstone block is sitting and squishing on the creative lobe of my brain. I am slowly chipping at it with a pick and cutlery, yes I am using a spoon and a fork, to try and come up with something a bit more riveting than an essay about society and culture with a million and one references.
This old (not ancient) piece of machinery has been at the ink stained fingertips of excited writers, poets, film makers, artists etc. as they transport their ideas from the convoluted maze of their thoughts to a structured, together and tangible A4 page.
The Great Gatsby was at times whispered or yelled by the keys of the typewriter. F.Scott Fitzgerald in a frenzy of words shares the ash from his cigarette that has hung in his mouth for months with the keys. Filmscripts for Hollywood cinema, Wizard of Oz and Citizen Kane had been words before moving pictures. The sparkling crimson red of Dorothy's shoes were described with black and white materials before the heels hit each other in technicolour.
Its clinks, clanks and bings are satisfying to a creators ear, with a sense of excitement and trepidation. You can’t as easily erase your mistakes. They are glorified and adapted not erased and forgotten.
Who knows maybe I’ll discover something amongst the red and black rolls of ribbons and the harshness of the keys?
I’ll keep you posted,
Sincerely,
Apprentice of Writing…
(mine looks nothing like this, but hopefully one day)
* * *
I think I know what will cure my writer's block;
- A plane ticket
- Fake gold embodied note books that you can get from any good bookshop.
- The scenery of the Scottish countryside near a Loch.
- A pen. Not just any pen. One that when you pick it up it becomes apart of the movements and contortions of your hand. The words seem to glide not from your hand but straight from the magical ink of the pen.
- Dublin would be nice!
- New typewriter ink. Just as a back up.
- A comfortable chair back home under the warmth of the sun with the grass a bit to high and the dog bouncing around.
- A teacup with floral patterns. Maybe a matching saucer but can be bargained.
- A cafe in Europe somewhere, anywhere.
- Endless supply of Dad's pumpkin soup or Saturday soup.
- Unlimited access to Westminster Abbey and the Tower of London.
Feel free to be generous and give to another!
Thankyou for your help, I hope you enjoyed the ride.
If you've kept up with this saga of writing, never forget to 'Embrace your weirdness' and check off your own list. I promise to try and be a bit more active. Enjoy, laugh and smile...
