As an artist, I have always struggled with the will of motivation. Keeping myself inspired to create, and it has never been an easy task. I have moved from drawing, painting, photography, and now writing. The desire is never a problem, nor the imagination, nor the ideas, but the drive is missing. I’m in the car, the motor is on, and I’m not pressing the gas– green lights all the way– no follow through. And this is the curse of Prometheus’s Fire.
As usual to the human condition, I have forgotten one of the highest lessons: All things begin with choice. There is nothing holding me back except myself. We’ve all heard this, ad nauseam, but it is said for a reason. So, the time has come to silence the world around me, set every tiny distraction aside, and look at the choices in my life. And what do I see? Creation. I am a creator. It is my purpose, my design, my everything. This above all, I must keep in the forefront of my mind.
And to keep the writing and editing process fresh, I have experimented with a new device. Something to hold writer’s block at bay, which is really an excuse for procrastination. I write parodies of my own work, sort of literary gag reels. So, I present an excerpt from the novel I am working on, The Etherium:
Harkin approached the sorcerer– cowled in black, silver pages cycled through the air with an incandescent glow, the dark figure paid no attention.
“You there!” Harkin’s blood-shot eyes focused on two blurry images of the man. “You’re coming with me.” Attempting to place the edge of his axe on the table to emphasize threat, he missed the edge, swayed, and with drunken balance, the heavy blade crashed to the floor. Harkin fell face forward into the table. The cracking of wood echoed about the tavern–
“Oh, for the love of God!” The man in black stood from his table, throwing back his hood.
“Cut, cut!” The director rubbed at his furrowed brow.
Hands entagled with the silver pages suspended from thin wires, thrashing about, the man in black ripped them from the ceiling. “I have had enough of this! This man cannot get his lines or rhythm right. I’ll be in my trailer.”
“No, no, no…” The director raced after his star. “Karl, please babe. Come back. We’ll get someone else.”
“I’m done!” Karl slammed the studio door open and headed towards his private sanctuary. “Should have stayed in Wellington…”
Hope you enjoyed! Remember, life is absurd, and we should never take anything too seriously. Even ourselves.
Stonehenge Writers 