For me, the most depressing part of being a writer perhaps is when you stare blankly onto the screen, couldn’t find the right word for your very first sentence, couldn’t correlate from one sentence to another, or maybe the worst of all, you don’t have a bleeding idea on what to write. For some, the possibility to make a head start for an entry is endless; imagining blue skies with sprawling eagles, or a Chevy pulled on the side of the road with hood opens up and steam bursts out, or the loud shrieks from unidentifiable voices afar, or like the beginning of The God of Small Things where Arundhati started her story with the end of a monsoon – limitless.
I have been staring onto this screen for the past 4 hours, trying to find something to write. I guess, if your life is sparkled with a lot of fun things, or sad things, or many things, you wouldn’t have any hiccups trying to sew from one word to another.
The sky was a tad too sullen this evening. Wind blows literally hard, and coconut trees swayed from one side to the other. The clouds were murky, swirling like a heavy rotten cotton candy. Parents were parenting kids by the beach, yelling them not to go skinny dipping far from the shoreline – afraid of being engulfed by the twirling waves. Holes dug by the tiny little crabs were washed away, leaving the sand looked soft and fluffy, and the coconut a few meters away looked as if a mini floater was gone astray from its origin.
It was a typical evening over here. Not that it happened every day, but the moment when the mother nature stroke a rather soft gesture for a minor reception, it wasn’t soft at all. With all those details, I still couldn’t figure out how to initiate what I wanted to write, most probably I don’t have anything at all to share.
But deep inside me, I need to start writing again. It is like that I have lost my charm. I have lost something precious, something that was able to make me happy by just rereading back what I wrote. I have lost the man that I love, I have lost the love that I have poured into a man that I positively thought was the one for me. But it was a dumb move to think that he was the one for me when there are billions of men out there to look out for. Well, that’s beside the point. I remember when I had so many things to write, I jotted it down everywhere. I won’t say that my work has taken a toll on me, because that’s what work is for. The one third of your entire day. But that’s the case for most of you, but for me, I spend half of my day inside the plant, troubleshooting, project planning, designing, cost estimating and what not. This is not kind of a job that requires me to use my creative faculty to write an email, or to issue out a detailed trouble report.
I literally lost on what to share.
My take, if you are deeply in love, or being invested too much in an emotion, then the words will pour in. But right now, I am helpless, and emotionless, and I don’t even know what to think.
“Honey, don’t make me fall in love again. I had enough”