by Amy5918

Created on: June 17, 2008

Mind Acrobatics
As a writer, I'm often asked about it. Most often, How do I describe the act of writing? And, Why do I write? Excellent questions and I thought I'd take a few minutes to answer them in writing - the easiest way for me to communicate my ideas clearly.

The last is amusing to me, as I don't feel I have a choice, as you'll see. I was both born into and nurtured for it by the circumstances of my early life - that's a different story though. You can form your own opinion on it however.

As for how do I write, how do I come up with ideas and find the right words? Well, I have to say, Gene Fowler had it right. Writing is easy... you know.... you simply stare at a blank piece of paper 'till drops of blood form on your forehead.

My muse comes, a familiar lover, whispering seductive sentences, his featherlight touch tantalizing, his experienced hand reaching into the depths of my mind inspiring me to creative streams of consciousness. Enticing words to pour forth from deep inside, where his secrets spill into me.

Sometimes, I call on my muse. Needing his whispered seductions, his featherlight caress kindling my literary flames, his touch deep inside.

And sometimes he arrives, unannounced, exploding forth, demanding entrance. Possessing me, claiming my consciousness like a deep soul kiss. My muse a hot ember, entering me, setting my mind on fire with words and poetry his secrets spilling into me planting seeds of ideas, coaxing my literary flames higher so that I rush to find instruments of release.

And so, the paper yields willingly to the pen. Sliding smoothly across and down the smooth untouched paper. Glistening in its pure whiteness. Its crisp purity.

Gliding, as insistent, the words thrust against my consciousness, demanding to be released. My soul yearning for completeness.

And soon, I sigh, feeling released, complete, in the throbbing pulsing aftermath still echos in mind and slowly ebbs away.

I wipe drops of blood from my forehead and head off to take a shower.

So, if you're still asking why I write...then perhaps you've never been quite as overtaken by your muse as I have. I think s/he's willing to flirt with all of us, whether or not we make it more then an innocent flirtation is entirely up to you. Mine has been tap tap tapping on my subconsious for the past few years, wanting to start up our fiery relationship again. Perhaps more matured and wise now that I'm older. He's asking me to dance, and I'm saying yes, finally and here I am, taking a whilr around the dance floor, hoping the music becomes my soundtrack when someone writes the story of my life for a blockbuster movie when I've moved far forward again in this world of writing and writers.

Go out there and ask your muse to dance.

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