As the title says, this is a short story/essay type thing. I wrote it for creative writing today, and thought I'd show it to y'all. I'd love to hear your comments, and CC is always welcome! ^_^
Cradling the warm mug of cocoa in my hands, I stare at the computer screen, rereading the last few paragraphs. A small crease wrinkles my brow as I see a poorly worded sentence. Tapping the keys up to the appropriate place, I delete the offending line, to rewrite it in a better fashion. Sitting back, I reread it to see how it flows. Content with my work, I move on.
Reaching the documentís end and having found no more mistakes, I set down the ceramic mug and lightly rest my fingers atop the keys. The customary three spaces to start the paragraph are typed out, and then I stop. How to continue this? Setting, thatís what I need first. Start off with a few good descriptions to get the feel of the next segment.
After a few minutes of thinking, I type out some sentences, pausing to look over them as I end the paragraph. All right, the easy part is out of the way. We have our setting, now something has to happen. What type of scene do I want? A peaceful one? Something strange and fantastic? Perhaps some rich dialogueÖ
I await the coming of my muse, a dear friend to me in these hours spent at the keyboard. Come now muse, tell me what I shall write. After five minutes of staring blankly at the screen, waiting to type something, I realize this isnít working. My eyes drift up the document, looking for some clue as to what I can do with this next bit. Did I hide anything up there to foreshadow something? Nothing is bringing any inspiration so far.
I reread again the last paragraph. What kind of image does this scene invoke? It feels rather peacefulÖI guess thatís how Iíll start. A flurry of tapping sounds as I type out sentence after sentence. Iíve now set the scene and the mood, now I must mold them, do something with them. This needs some dialogue. Picking a character almost at random, I write out some inconsequential sentence, immediately tapping out anotherís reply. A short series of such things, and I stop to read once again.
My brow furrowsÖa small crease, deepening as I read. My little finger hovers over the backspace key as I finish up the paragraph. Disgusted almost with what I have written, I press and hold down the key, watching the little line showing my progress speed backwards. OkayÖdialogue apparently wonít work right now; I must find something else to fill this scene with.
My fingers rest on the keys once more, feeling the smooth plastic that is partially worn away from typing so much. Stumped as to what my next move shall be, I leave things again in the hands of my muse. It is apparently bored with this story however, anything I write in this will be without its help. Giving it up as a lost cause, I save and close the document. I must write something however, to fill my page a day quota. Sighing slightly, I open up a new document.
I stare at it, it seems so blank and empty, and I have no clue what to write. I look around, hoping to perhaps find inspiration for a poem from my surroundings. But poetry will not come to me today either. Sighing, I rest my fingers atop the keys, and wait for an idea. I grumble at my muse for abandoning me so, but still hoping perhaps it will have something else up its sleeve for me to write.
Just as Iím thinking perhaps I should find something else to do, a glimmer of inspiration comes from the back of my mind. Grinning slightly, I begin typing. Itís a flurry of words, veritably flying from my fingertips and onto the screen. I pause after every paragraph to reread, but the wrinkles do not crease my brow this time. I smile and continue. This is not perhaps my best work ever, but Iím writing, and that is a thing to be praised. I silently thank my muse for sending me this bit of inspiration, however small it might be. Seeing Iíve come to just over my one page quota, and having just about exhausted my story, I prepare to end it. What did I write? Youíre reading it.
More inspiration from a lack of it? Excellent. This is a lovely little essay southern belle; I've enjoyed reading it. The process of writing is brilliantly depicted, as is the vague, slowly waxing frustration springing from an inability to formulate a more or less inspired scene. Your versatility and prolificacy, even in the face of muse-less-ness, is very inspiring. I'm enjoying reading your work, with its idea of a loss of inspiration, but an ability to overcome it, stringing it all together.
Dear me, I don't know how many times I've used the word inspiring" in its various ways today! ^_^
Thanks for the comments guys! I really appreciate 'em. This is actually only the second short story I've ever completed. The first one I wrote...last month. Haven't posted it up here yet, cause it might get published if I win a contest with it. Hopefully I'll be able to write more short stories, it's rather fun. ^_^ And yes, using lack of inspiration for inspiration is quite wonderful.
Very wonderful piece of work. The theme of not being able to write is one that I've seen you use before in your poetry, but you always handle it quite expertly and always make it an engaging read. All writers can relate to not being able to write and it is very reassuring to know that one can break through the inability to write to come up with something very entertaining about not being able to write.
Well done, Belle, keep it up! (the quality writing bit, not the inability to write bit)
Great piece of work, I must say. I've often felt very much like that, sitting with pen in hand and feeling empty of anything new... I like that you brought the theme of the elusiveness of the poet's muse, as it's often a great subject to write about.