It’s interesting how on some days (let’s call them Yay Days) the phrases form in your mind as if whispered by someone and the words are laid on paper without much effort. It feels as if the page is already written in your head and you’re only reading it with your fingers on the keyboard. We call those the days when the inspiration is at its best, and all writers pray for them more than they do for a good night's sleep (or whatever other things they love).
At the opposite side, there are the days (Nay Days) when, though you know the story and how the scene must unfold, the words simply refuse to form themselves into sentences. It feels as if the consonants are stuck somewhere in the abyss of your mind and the vowels have disappeared completely from your alphabet. Everything that comes out sounds either like a child’s Gaga Goo or like a drunken’s verbal diarrhea.
Why does this happen? The storyline is set, the characters know what they have to do, you just have to fill in the blanks. Though it should be like kindergarten when your drawing was made by joining up loads of numbered dots on a paper, it feels like Oxford College when you haven’t even finished high school.
I’m still studying the issue. So far, nothing but frustration. A writer’s life, eh?
Written words: 728 (Yay Day).