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Have
you ever been caught in that fogged up state of mind where you feel an intense
need to scribble except within you, right in there, your mind is a full-page blank?
Can you feature yourself wedged between such a crazy writing fix where the
hunger is not, by any accounts, fed by a necessity like trying to meet a
deadline or capping off a project—an appetite for words flanked by dryness beyond
compare? I mean, I feel the need
right there. I want so much to write
but what I have is vacancy—a void that sucks away at the phrases just when one
wriggles free of the bottomless pit and swims to the surface of my mind.
Try
not to mix this up with writer’s block. This vagueness has nothing in common
with that ever so infamous writers’ nightmare because it doesn’t hold sway for
an extensive period of time, unless you let it, of course. It’s like feeling
the wake of a storm within and being rid of the skill to translate it into
words and you still can’t get over the initial itch.
So
what do you do? I don’t know about you but what I do is write. What I do write is a bigger piece of cake. But I try.
And there’s the point. I write. I may
have to scrawl dry, unrelated phrases on paper for a while, struggling to make
that connect with the inner mystery. It might take only a minute or it might run
into hours, but eventually, I win the muse over by my resolve to write. It’s
like the muse is swayed by my seriousness and he says, “There’s my lead.” And he steps in.
A
unique quality of transformation attends the entrance of the muse and it puts
the shine in my writing. And I sense that my muse has been waiting for me to go
out on a limb; holding off until he proves my passion for writing is genuine. It’s
good judgment to not wait for the flow but to let our actions unplug the flow.
Make
your pen bleed.
Akpan
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