I am stuck. I mumbled these three words over and over before shutting the computer crudely and slapping the screen flat. I was tired of trying to coin words for an essay question that I barely understood what it required. Before that essay, I was an Olympic diver or at least I thought I was one. I had been congratulated many a times for penning enthralling heart-touching poems. My posts had received many a likes. I was on the verge of self-publishing a novel. My manuscript was coming out just nicely. I could churn out professional and personal essays that were sitting at my table, internet, or hard drive. So, I was on top.
But here was an essay that made me ask myself: Can I write? Not tangibly. Not literally. Not technically. I was already doing that. Rather, the question was, can I make the words warble? Does my prose have that sensible thing to speak to readers? Am I exceptional at presenting not narrating, or narrating not presenting, or designing an entire cosmos that wasn’t there before for purposes of enthralling and sweeping readers off their feet?
So why was I getting stuck and hard pressed for ideas if I am a good writer. Suddenly, it dawned on me that a good essay idea or prompt is not the be-all end-all idea. So, I resorted to pushing on. But I was not going to go back to the computer just yet. Instead, I dug into a few lazily thrown magazines and read almost everything in them whether interesting, relevant, long, short, well-written, or not. All the while, ideas kept crossing my mind. Trains of thoughts, I may say, filled my mind. Then, I took a nap – healthy nap. When I woke up, I did so with a start, and my fingers were itching to meet the keyboard to write continue with the story from where I had left it.