My Inner Critic has decided to out itself. No longer is it content to just whisper vile negatives to my every written word – now it is engaged to Procrastination and a wedding seems inevitable. The two together have gobbled up my muse (a green tree frog); belched in my face and said “Delicious. Any more?”
It isn’t that I haven’t the stories demanding to be told; there are just so many that they have constipated my fingers. As they are stuck halfway between my throat chakra and my emotional centre, it seemed reasonable to try and shift them by a session on the Zen-chi machine. All that achieved was wobbly legs and the realisation that I had forgotten to do any Tai Chi exercises. Standing meditation as if I am hugging a tree fills up about ten minutes. Then it’s back to the page.
I polish my computer and stare at the white blank screen. Then riffle through the thesaurus as if my life depended on finding that perfect word. Which of course it does. I can’t find it and in any case, I need to check on the progress of the Sun-birds nest. I couldn’t sleep let alone write if anything prevented the eggs from hatching.
I must Google and see what can be done about eradicating Indian Mynah birds.
Deciding to sneak up and perhaps catch the betrothed couple sleeping; I cycle to the beach with notebook and pen and the intention of letting a character emerge and speak. There are dozens. Voracious in their need for centre stage.
In the end, we all gaze out at the Coral Sea looking for dolphins then admire the lacy patterns made by sand-crabs.
Tomorrow, without fail, I am going to write my Christmas list; and plan what I’ll wear to the wedding.