Random Thoughts (Free Writing)

         I am suffering from writer’s block.  I am unable to collect my creative thoughts into any sort of coherent connections.  Splintered ideas rattle in my skull-cap and the echoes of past ideas mock my inability to form new poetry or short stories.

         I am using this free form writing to try and jolt my senses and tear my talent from the depths of darkness.  What happened to the days when I could sit and write poetry for hours?  Why do my stories now stop less than midway through with a bizarre nagging sensation that all attempts to continue will end in failure?  Have I lost the ability to entertain with words on paper?  Have computers perhaps corrupted the flow of prose that once freely washed throughout my mind?

         I only ask because I need an answer.  These are not rhetorical questions.  I really want to know!  My dream has always been to write.  This dream used to be the divining rod that brought me to the place where unicorns run wild with clowns and moss covered aliens.  That realm of dreams and ideas that one can only attain when the mind is free of worry and fear.  I miss this place with the cotton candy fountains and marsh-mellow rocks.

         Maybe I need to find something less distracting than a computer to connect the dots of my mind?  Maybe write by hand?  Maybe learn to use a manual type-writer. I don’t know but something needs to reconnect the images in my mind with the words I can put on paper.

         Once I was full of demons and monsters that yearned to escape to the page.  Now I sense there is a deserted wasteland in the creative cortex of my brain.  Something was taken or lost.  I can not be sure.  I must find out so I can once again live my dream.

         Was this spilling of thought coherent?  Did any of this make sense to anyone other than myself?  Did I just ask myself a question?  Maybe I am losing my talent after all.  Perhaps I will need to come to the realization that I had no talent at all and I am just some guy who thinks he can write.  We can’t all be writers after all.  I am doomed to work on computers forever in a world of endless technology.  A world that supplants the human element with that of the machine.  The machines will turn on us I am sure.  I have read about it in books and seen it in the movies.  We are all doomed to die by that which we hold so important.

         I think I should stop this now.  Almost two pages of prattling on and I don’t remember what the original thought was anymore. I just realized that the word count doesn’t work the same way as an editor counts words.  You would think someone would fix that.