I know there are people out there that make a living from it. Writers, photographers, musicians, painters, glass makers, potters, cobblers, tailors, just about everyone who puts their personal stamp on anything. Some find creativity in their cupboard, a jar of mystery, a case of suspense, a tin of humor.
So here I am trying to write and I’ve got nothing. My best ideas come from that magic moment, just before you wake up for the day, still drowsy, not quite awake but not quite asleep, aware but not. I’ve had the best ideas, the Tails of the Zombie Apocalypse, the Illusion, the Perfect Plan. I’ve come up with a complete Halloween show, from beginning to end during that time. When something begs to be given life, I would write it down. I never thought it would go far, but I had them.
Then I lost my all of my notes. All of them. Now I have to start over. And I haven’t been sleeping well. So creativity isn’t easy. At least not now. Perhaps I will attain the gloriousness of semi-sleep once again. To drift amongst the images that come and go, and even, if I’m really good, direct them towards certain plains to find expression, give them a chance at life, even if it’s just in my own head.
Sure, it could happen. Pray for me.