Lying here in the dark, it occurs to me that what I need is a muse. I’ve never been able to write without one, be it a human or a cut deeply puncturing my soul.
I have neither. I have concepts and puzzles and interpretations. I have physics, which used to be a passion and could be a powerful source of inspiration if the passion was still inside me.
But I’m numb. How can words be found in a heart that is void of feeling?
I’m teaching people to write concisely, with precision. I am training people to express their knowledge fully in four sentences. The work is cold. and the knowledge is just that…knowing.
I could not teach how to write creatively. How to dig inside oneself and find questions and meaning. How did you do it, Mrs. Sizer? How did you inspire me so deeply? I wish I could ask, but you are dead now. I still have questions. I never asked for answers–you punctured my soul without my permission. And I am grateful.
Another Writer, Another Blog 