My head is bursting with new ideas but its hard to put them down on paper. I don't know what stops me. Is it the fear of not being able to produce anything readable ? Or is it just the lack of energy, the kind of lackadaisical lethargy that is the bane of creativity...? I wish I knew.
When I read my favourite writer, his ability to narrate, to juggle with words, holds me in awe. His skilll makes me feel hollow with the knowledge that I lack something to produce anything half as good.
The demons haunt me all the time, the boob-tube is a time-killler and my malingering imagination achieves a Pyrrhic victory over my better sense that always advises me to get up and write.
I must exorcise these inner demons if I have to achieve anything. I must win this battle with my own mind. I must give my thoughts wings that don't flap just for the sake of it but take me on a vicarious journey to a world where I can find my Muse.
I must write.
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