I
do need that voice. A writer does not
live by white-out alone. A search
warrant is in order. "Single white
female in search of inventive perspective. Touch of humor and dash of whimsy
essential." Too dry.
"Brazen
wench seeks bizarre attitude. Prefer voice that laughs so hard it bleats." Better.
Perhaps
the voice is simply distracted today, not sure when to show up or what to do
when it gets here. I can always tell
when it's having an identity crisis.
Every speck of dust in the house stands out. They insist on obliteration; a vacuum or dust
cloth will do. The dust distractors
appear most often when I'm on deadline.
Wait. The voice was thinking of meditating. Damn. I hate it when it hangs out with that crowd. Comes back all mellow. No bite at all. Might as well stay in that darkened room with
the silly paintings on the wall. A woman
with tendrils coming out of her head. A
man playing a lute as he rides a unicorn. Should be a warning sign.
"Artist on meditation, hide the paint."
But, I don't think the voice is meditating today. I'm too calm. It usually only mediates after we've had a disagreement. Like the time we debated whether "The Little Engine that Could" really exists, or if it was just the author's way of trying to brainwash a couple generations of kids. I won, of course. I often do. Then the voice pouts. Could be for just a few minutes. Sometimes for as long as a couple of days.
It
comes back. I'm convinced it misses me
as much as I miss its quirky incantations. Where did I find it last time? Ah
yes. At the keyboard. Actually, I think
it was hiding in the computer screen. I had
finished DEP--dust elimination procedures--and tackled all the weeds in the
flower garden. Thought the voice might
be in with the June bugs. Couldn't think
of anyplace else to look, so I just turned on that sucker, and there it
was.
I
know its wiles. Trying to make me forget
I'm angry that it's been in hiding.
Perhaps
it's in the computer again today. I approach
the contraption, sneaking up on its blind side, so the voice doesn't sense I'm
coming. Once you turn on the computer,
the voice can't escape. Can still hide,
of course.
Aha! There it is.
There's
always an excuse for being away.
"I've been collecting my thoughts," it says.
"Collecting
or concealing?" I ask. And we're on
our way.
* * * * *
Author's note: Sometimes writing a blog post is a good way to escape the creative voice. To see more about my writing, go to http://www.elaineorr.com.