Prying loose thoughts that just don’t want to come, finding excuses and distractions along the way, hoping against hope that there is light at the end of this tunnel—a writer faces an empty computer screen and imagines it filled with the vivid wash of emotions and sensations that bang about inside his head. Yes there are distractions enough and there are responsibilities enough, but the God damn banging won’t cease of its own accord. The promise has to be fulfilled, the word made true. Until then the writer will not be able to find the center to his sphere. He will wobble about like a pathetic teetering tornado—where he would wish to employ a gentle touch, he applies an atomizing blow; where he would be patient and understanding, he hurdles and pushes to the ground.
Dear God, decades ago I divorced a wife and abdicated my paternal responsibilities. I’ve cut my emotional roots every time they’ve threatened to draw my heart away from the screen, from the blank stare and the late nights at the keyboard. Let me work the magic tonight. Let me get the incantation right this time. Let me carry the stroke all the way through to the end. Let me silence the doubts that creep up behind me during those early morning hours when all is stillness and heaviness of eyes. Let me silence the living doubts who remind me of the promises made and needlessly add to my own storehouse of doubt. Let the story be completed and the crowds dispersed. And may I find, when that moment comes, that I am surrounded by the presence of the ones that I love, of the ones that I have borne in my heart. May it be a reunion and a marriage like none other. JBB
Sources:
- Image Frustrated Woman at Computer With Stack of Paper — Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis
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