Hope you have been comfortable. Could not have been easy, sharing space with all that clutter. The ever-lengthening to-do lists, the music, the imaginary conversations that were waiting to become real, and the plot lines. Not those, because you edged them out, didn’t you? Like a cuckoo chick that edges out the others that rightfully belong in the nest. A plot would just step in and then it would be gone, before I could even be aware of it properly. It would bother me no end, yet I could not do anything about it. The bother turned to frustration, and then resignation. After all, what was the use? A sneaking feeling of relief made itself known too. In a way, not writing was an easy way to reduce stress, because it was one thing off my plate. It has been nice having you around, but now it is time for you to go.
I realise I put off writing in the way that one saves dessert to be had after a boring meal. To be savoured and enjoyed. Well, writing is dessert for me. I felt I could only write after all the mundane tasks were done. But that left me tired and doused the creative spark completely. Then one fine day I tried my hand at a prompt. That was all there was to it. Ideas flowed after the kickstart. Haphazard, disjointed, maybe, but there.
That is the beauty of the external prompt. It piques the interest, and sets one thinking. Before one knows it, the line of thinking goes into territory one wasn’t even aware of. Maybe it was a fear of this very territory that stopped the writer in their tracks. A reluctance to explore. But a prompt leads, gently teasing, quietly guiding, and the block, which was a mountain, becomes a mere mound. A light jump, and it is crossed.
This is goodbye, dear Block. I have sheltered behind you long enough. Maybe you will come back, but now I know how to put you in your place! No hard feelings, though!
Not yours, truly,
Me
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