Writers Road Block

I knew from an early age that I was destined to be a writer. From the first rough, thick lined pencil pads to the smooth, shiny white college-rule in elementary school, I ached to put words on a page. When school supplies were purchased and stacked on my bed, I’d rush to open the package of pencils and remove the plastic wrap from my school paper.

Then I would sit and stare at the shiny page, pencil tapping teeth, waiting for the words to come.

More than 40 years later, I still sat and waited.

Mother had always lectured not to waste our supplies before school began but she really didn’t have to worry. My writer's road block remained. With my lifetime case of short term memory, I never got the thoughts written fast enough with paper and pen before they flew away. It wasn’t until I bought a computer that the words could be captured, straight from my head to my hands to the keys. It is the speed of brain to fingers that has enabled me to write. I have had songs die in the aborning just because I couldn’t write them down as fast as the muse would sing them in my head. But ahhh, technology. Give me a dictaphone and computer keyboard and they live.

Each morning and late evening, I push the “on” button and wait for the blue screen to roll to white. Sitting and staring at the shiny page I write. Words appear, sentences grow and a story dances upon the page.

I am a writer.