I tossed Snoopy off the edge. He went flying out in the darkness on top of his dog house like the World War I Flying Ace. He continued to pound out the latest Once Upon a Time on his typewriter seemingly unconcerned about the pending thwack on the floor. Of course, I ran around the desk to scrutinize the fall. He had one missing paw and the calendar blocks scattered around him. The dog nearly decapitated in the crash. I’m off to Hallmark to find a replacement desk calendar; one with Snoopy, in one piece, tapping away on the keys.
Spring has sprung and summer is edging closer. After crossing in front of the federal building, the sun already seemed to burn my scalp. The bald spot felt exposed. I suppose it could be worse; I could be walking across a field of frozen snow wondering when the sun will warm up enough to melt it all.
Lavender flowers now wilted
The hose twisted kinked
The gardener saves the plant
With water from his flask
A swallow tumbles over stalk
Greedily gathered in dust
The flower recovers its shine.
“Why do you want this job?”
“For the challenge and to make a difference.”
“And you think you’re that person?”
“I enjoy new experiences.”
“What makes you think we want you?”
“My reputation drew your interest? I’m a team player? I want to explore new methods and ideas?”
“Are you asking the questions now?”
“I’m just trying to make a good impression.”
“We may call you later.”
The muse speaks in my ear whispering ideas, challenges, and dreams. Sometimes she demands I write. Other times, she sits on my shoulder just whispering variations on the same theme. Writers block never seems to affect her. Although, she does get a bit testy when I ignore her.
Inspiration is our quill of various arrows gathered for the eventual fight. I don’t think any experience goes to waste. Even the obstacles and failures can lead to a good story. Bad ill strengthens our character as much as goodwill. The magic comes in realizing every experience builds the writer’s arsenal and allows him to write characters with life.