Over the past five days, I’ve had a mechanical black cloud hanging over my head. My sister says I should wear gloves because anything I touch seems to break. I agree with her.
I am a machine serial killer. I’ve talked about this before in previous posts, but my serial ways are getting worse (or better, depending on which side of the killer fence you are on). Over the last four days, I’ve killed a lawnmower, disabled a central air unit, and made the check engine light come on in my car. I’ve been a busy little destroyer.
The black cloud extends beyond machinery. It’s been with me for the past two years when it comes to writing, although I would actually call it a gray cloud. I can still write, but the motivation has declined. I’m hoping one day my muse will pull a Lazarus and rise from the deadlands of works in stasis and dying inspirations.
It doesn’t stop the desire to write. I have an idea for a new storyline at least once a week. Putting it onto paper is a problem. So is maintaining interest. I’m easily distracted away from long projects. Even short ones can sometimes be a struggle.
I do see a brighter side. As soon as the black cloud drifts away to hang over someone else, I may have a renewal in my writing spirit.
Black writing clouds can be good for a writer. It gives one time to reflect on what has been accomplished. Black clouds can force one into deciding where to go next.
Black clouds, writing or mechanical, can also be considered signs. I’m a great believer in signs. If my path is blocked, I take it as a signal that I should go another way. I don’t know who or what is sending that signal; it could be anything from my own subconscious to the great universe. Whatever the case, I’ve had enough experience ignoring signs that I try to listen.
I had an epiphany late last night as I drifted to sleep. I realized I have many books already finished, if only in my head. All I need to do is put them on paper.
Maybe, I’ll take all my unfinished works and compile them into a series of short stories. I have enough to fill several books. Or, maybe I’ll start completely over and see if the black cloud will dissipate and let the writing sun shine down on me once again.
Current enthusiasm is sharpening intangible knives and co-authoring at Rubicon Ranch