An Insider's Look of a Hopeful Writer's Mind.
The pain is real. Every flex of muscle, every twinge of nerves real and palpable to those who bore witness. The ache, so intense behind the eyes and at the base of the neck. There are intense moments of silence followed by bursts of energy and a flurry of tapping sounds, only to be swept into stillness again. It is a repetitive pain. A thing that always returns no matter how long it might have been since the last instance, it will return.
The imagery is clear, the idea is coming together, but the muscles are tense. The writer is strung tight and yet yearning to create art on paper with words, but sometimes to no avail.
The laptop/computer is a just a tool, but occasionally I wish it could write my mind for me. While my thoughts whirl with so many ideas and images, my hands refuse to cooperate with the rest of me. Suddenly, words no longer form coherent lines but are a jumble of nonsense within my equally jumbled head.
This is the pain of a writer, or at least for this writer it is. But eventually, the fog lifts, the tempest breaks, and sense returns in a flurry of fingers on the keyboard. And all is not lost.