Inside this world where we sit to work, a writer prepares for transformation—that magical view where the vanishing point of everyday consciousness merges into the fields of imagination. We rebuke distraction yet fiddle & pace. Will something inspire the mind above the ordinary? Is there a view to be gazed upon which will release the torrent of inspired words yearned to capture?
We stare at our fingernails; we check email.
The hours passed inside this womb of potential, combines to serve as a gestation period for the greatest work. A writer should be permitted to include an appendix in their finished product so the reader can more fully understand the time invested in what we endeavour to produce for either entertainment or enlightenment.
In the summer months, we sit worried & pale. When it is cold outside, our faces flush & glow with the frustration of not being able to communicate what simply must be expressed. Out there, in that outside world which is not yet privilege to the mechanics of ardent imagination, people endeavour things with the hope of producing tremendous reaction
How many times do we lament the vacuum?
Would it not be wonderful to have a beautiful companion, unencumbered by any schedule but the diligent writer’s? Someone who would patiently & carefully read what we labour to create, then lavish us with wise & supportive feedback? Every writer should be blessed with such support but inside the workplace, alas—it is just us, the developing manuscript and whatever else we might require to get a story moving. And so toils the process, incubated within a solitary luxury of the writing sanctuary.