“Sometimes, the light bulb doesn’t turn all the way on.”
“Oh.” “Hm, but say I wanted the light bulb to turn on; what would I do?”
“Well, you could try jiggling the switch just a little toward the left.”
“Mm, uh oh.”
“It snapped right off.”
“The light switch?”
“Yeah, I guess I gratuitously interpreted vigorously.”
“Ah, well, there’s nothing to be done about it now.”
“Oh, well damn.”
I stare at the computer screen with my brows nearly uniting in the center of my forehead. Their mutual frustration over my inability to scrounge up some clever bit of prose, some flowery poetry, or enigmatic character has united them above my eyes. My eyes stare at the stark white of my word document until the screen begins to blur.
My inner writer is now silent. She’s a little miffed that I snapped the light switch of my creativity light bulb straight off. I don’t know what I’ll do to make it up to her. Maybe I’ll read for a little while and that will help to store up enough words to form a paste to slather over the break. We can slap the switch back on and maybe in a day or so the light bulb will flicker back to life and I’ll have light enough to power through a few thousand words or so.
The thought alone is earning me quite the disconcerting glare. It’s the kind your mother gives you when you offer to replace her favorite glass figurine you broke with a plastic knock-off from the mall. I’m just going to type on the keyboard and see if the ‘click-clack’ of it lulls her into any kind of false sense of security. It’ll take her a while to realize I haven’t truly written anything.
I feel bad about my lack of creativity, my lack of ingenuity, and my lack of responsibility. If I was truly a writer I would have something profound to say in regards to my inability to write for the day. But then, would I really have nothing to write if I had the profound words of my inner writer? Perhaps it is truly she who is slacking right now. She’s missed the mark. If the light bulb was efficient enough and turned on when I commanded it to then I wouldn’t be in this darkness in the first place!
Ah, but what are you going to do about hypotheticals? A whole lotta nothing or a whole lotta hypothetical something.
The urge to pick up a book has come. I think she’s ready to try consuming a good bit of fiction. Some tea, some suspended belief, and a good bit of a stretch of the imagination and I think her good graces will return.
Until next time, word document, we’ll have some words truly worth your time.
Until next time,