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Writer’s Hell

March 24, 2010

>Writing can shove anchors down your “lazy-spine”. Lazy may be unkind, but what else do you call it when you simply don’t pull up your desk chair and write? Is there any other descriptive?

The reason most people do not write quickly becomes a scenario of intrusive tasks like taking out the garbage and repairing that window that’s been busted for the past three years. Marriages improve and relationships blossom. Spouses and significant others revel in your new career because all the sudden you spend more quality time with them.

Then the dark clouds form over your eyes, and a crazed gleam gets caught flashing out at the world and you’ve transcended from marital or relationship bliss into Writer’s Hell. That place where you know you need to write – in fact you MUST write – and you’ve created a daily routine that brims with duties and obligations that quarantine you from any appreciable writing time. That’s Writing Hell.

Writing Hell then becomes a series of critical comments from significant others who do not understand that the next 2 to 14 hours get your mind body and soul with no time for food, kisses or even the neanderthal grunt. Deadlines loom and pressure builds as brain cells and synapses fire off like a 4th of July extravaganza. You perspire and fear for the circuitry in your keyboard and your mouse slips from your sweaty fingers.

Most of all you find your brain contains nothing intelligent except old algebraic formulas from 10th grade. Irritability sets in as significant others (including children, pets and small flying insects) attempt to distract your last remaining grip on ‘the muse’. A pencil dropped in another room sends your ass skyward and your slippery hands to the doorknob. A fly buzzes your head like a low-flying jet and defensive maneuvers cause you to miss the doorknob. Your nose attempts to french the wood door and gets no love in return. Fury sends you into a Fred Flintstone beating of the door as you scream out the names of your loved ones in the hopes of detecting the location of the offending pencil dropper.

Suddenly the door opens causing you to levitate backwards for a moment with surreal images of books and chairs and computer screen glows panning across the scene before everything accelerates into the pain of the spike of a callously kicked off high heel impales a kidney and the cry of a mortally wounded soldier escapes your lips despite your urgency to appear sane and be able to avoid a Baker Act.

As they help you up from the floor your eyes glisten with the moisture of inspiration. Your nerves tingle and goosebumps decorate your arms like tiny armadas sailing off to war and your spirit soars as you shoo your rescuers out the door in the interest of genius about to be unleashed on the electrons staring at you expectantly from your monitor.

Ah yes, it’s the writer’s life for me! And Writer’s Hell? A figment of your imagination like its cousin – Writer’s Block. This day stands tall for this writer and the multitudes that will revel in his creation…

One Comment leave one →
  1. March 25, 2010 10:33 am

    >Great metaphors–very true. Damn those dropped pencils!

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Michael Ray King

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