Chasing Inspiration

I really have been reflecting lately on the topic of inspiration. More to the point, I've been wondering why my writing has changed. I think maybe "more to the point" may actually be the point indeed.

As a hazard of my current occupation, words have become extremely important to me. Nothing frustrates me more that having to record or transcribe live dialogue when the speaker has no intention of stating his/her point in a clear and concise manner.

The phrases "you know" and "I mean" are an anathema to me.

The verbal utterance "uh" should be subject to electric shock upon completion.

And for the love of Christ, people should be able to finish a sentence before starting another one.

So I've made it a point to chose my words very carefully lest I become a hypocrite of sorts. I make a concerted effort to not only shun those verbal hiccups, but to plot each syllable I bring forth.

In other words, I'm thinking too damned much these days about communicating. With only so much sane space in my brain, that exercise has bled over into my free-thinking zone.

I've forgotten how to sit down at the computer and just write the stuff in my brain. I've shut down all the voices in my head that used to frustrate me.

And you know, I sort of miss my little voicey friends. They're fun to be around.

This week I've decided my intellect needs a vacation. I put it on notice. I told it to pack a bag full of pajamas, granny panties, and romance novels and board a flight to the tropics. I'm plying it full of alcohol. I expect it to come back relaxed and refreshed.

While it's gone, the voices will be pulling double shifts. I told my funny to burn the midnight oil. And everyone else in there is rearranging the space in my brain to make room for creativity.

And I've put out an BOLO (be on the look out) for inspiration. When found, inspiration will be held without bond until further notice.



This is Funky, and that is all.