addiction

On my drive this morning, I caught a hint of movement through the windshield.  It was a flash of light at the edge my vision, all color and no shape.  I pondered the possibilities of what I had seen.  A raindrop perhaps?  A coyote slinking off into the darkness?  Gorlak come to fetch me?  I thought we had an understanding, but nothing is certain when it comes to hell-demons.  Each idea was more sinister than the last, but my journey continued and nothing further came of the disturbance.

It made me miss the days when I drove into the rising sun and how the beauty of those moments would inspire the words to shine within me.  I couldn’t wait to get to a computer and transfer images, sentences, characters, lines to the screen.  That urgency is gone now.  Sure, I could write about the darkness surrounding my truck, the claustrophobia setting in, the madness that follows, but who wants to read about the demons I battle?  Real or imagined.  There is no inspiring light.  There is only the struggle to keep my eyes open and the truck between the lines.

The kingdom is battling a cold this week, runny noses, sore throats, decreased energy, and confused thoughts.  After safely making it to work I stared at the computer screen trying to force out the words that normally flow from mind to screen with little prompting, but for a long time there was nothing, and then there were only snippets, fragments of a sentences, partial ideas.  Muddled, all of it.  Yet, the need to write never went away.  It is an addiction, a craving, a desire that cannot be ignored.

So, I filled the space with letters, grouped into words, then sentences and paragraphs, so that it might appease the writer.  Of course, he can never be appeased, not truly, not fully.  The writer is only ever temporarily satisfied.

And so I journey on.  Searching.  Seeking.  Questing for the next idea he can twist for his purpose and abate his need.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Don’t mind me, I’m currently enjoying the perks of Sudafedrine coupled with Advil.  I don’t bother with sending grammatical corrections for this one.  I think I was jumping between tenses.  I tried to fix that and am fairly certain I failed.  So, yeah, I know…

Anyway, I have no idea if this post makes any sense.  It is in response to this week’s Inspiration Monday writing challenge, and while I did use one of the prompt words, I’m not entirely sure it actual fits with the normal theme for responses.  Also, I’m not sure I can complete a sentence right now without a few extra commas and a bunch of fragments that probably don’t need to be there for the purpose of the sentence….  Um, yeah, here’s the prompt:

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.

OR

No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:

NEW FACE

UP THE DRAIN

COMPLIMENTARY COMPLIMENTS

THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD

DIFFICULTY SWALLOWING

 Any of that jump out at you?  I guess I’m in reading mode today since writing mode is currently missing.  So, write a response, link it up, and publish it to keep me from posting something else today.

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45 thoughts on “addiction

  1. but who wants to read about the demons I battle?  Real or imagined.

    This is part of the struggle I have lately with my blog. I know it is not all that way but I am still looking at it with critical (probably overly critical) eyes.

    Whilst not an addiction (but do many people about their addictions) the scenarios in my head are mostly not even real. They are imagined. Scenarios of wants… hmm

    • I think it all comes down to what you want from your blog. Are you writing because you need/want to write, or are you writing because you need/want to be read. Those are very different things…
      And, yes, we do tend to be overly critical when it comes to our own words and works.

      • A good question, honestly I don’t know, sometimes, on the deeper stuff I like the way I write and I like reading it back, its cathartic but at the same time if it were only I here on my blog, then I don’t think I would do it, at least not in a blog format.

      • I’m a mix of both, too (we all probably are). There are things I would write regardless, and there are things I only write because I know (I hope) that it will build some sort of discussion in the comments section and I crave that interaction.
        It’s a funny ol’ world… timing, and luck, and who you know all play a part. You could write the best post you’ve ever written and get zero feedback on it because nobody else was online looking for that topic, tag, theme, at that specific time and then there is so much content that your post gets buried by the hundreds of similar posts that get published over the following minutes, hours, days.
        So, a work progress. Right. We do what we can, promote ourselves when and where we can, and then hope for the best each time we hit publish. That’s all any of us can do.

      • Wise words indeed and so true, it is gutting when those posts that we think are some of our best get lost/unviewed.

  2. Remind me to find and post a poem I wrote called “Ode to the Blinking Cursor”

    Sorry to hear people are under the weather at home :-/

  3. If the beast doesn’t eat bits of you on a routine basis, you’ll certainly avoid the worst of the pain. But I’d rather burn in hell. By which I mean to say that you have a writer’s affliction. A bad turn, too, by the sounds of it. I think your post makes bloody good sense. Probably the clearest thing I have read (or written) today.

      • Dude, I figure you have to embrace your own inner madness, and the desire to let it out (via writing or other means) is sort of natural in my opinion. So I took your narrative to mean that something is crawling around in your blood, demanding that you listen to it. I don’t know if I said it right. But this thing is beyond even an addiction. It’s an extra added addiction.

      • You know Matticus, I think you have some madness in you. The healthy kind that ferments when you’re not looking, and I always figure I get a hint of it in your writing, but I haven’t necessarily seen it full force yet. I’m waiting. I can near guarantee that letting go and letting yourself go a bit nuts will result in the writing that you love the best. It’s like a rule or something.

      • Maybe the cold meds I’m taking this week will help me unleash that madness…
        I’m going to try to write something today unprompted. Just need to come up with the idea, the line, the character, and see what follows.

      • Screw prompts, Matticus. Just dig deep and pull something out. Crazier the better. Come on, I don’t wanna be the only nutjob out here. It’s getting lonely in the wilds.

        Maybe have a beer with the cold meds, that should speed things up.

      • Hahaha,, yeah, that would speed things up alright. I’d skip the rest of the day and head straight to sleep.
        Which sounds kind of nice, actually.

    • Hahahaha
      Yeah, they check my ID when I purchase it to make sure I’m not using the ingrediants to make meth. Nope, not that, just using them to function somewhat normally for 8 hours out of the day.

  4. Aaaah one of the little known perks of small children – you get EVERY virus on EARTH! They bring it home (no immunity) and you, while managing to withstand the random sneeze at the supermarket, are completely defenseless when it comes to rivers of never ending snot in your personal space. I hope you are feeling better soon. In the meantime drugs are your friends.

  5. Raw madness is sometimes the most interesting read there is. When we are paying attention only to the words that struggle to get past the editorial bars, a bit of humankind slips out onto the pages. The image you painted for me in these words: “…when I drove into the rising sun…” made me smile, and remember a road that did just that for me on so many occasions, but is a long way from where I am now.

    Get well! 🙂

  6. You’re sick, too? So is Jennifer/Elmo. I’m so sorry!

    Nevertheless, this was a great inner monologue of the plighted writer. Truly an addiction that addles the mind. We’re all mad here.

    I hope you feel better!

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