I’m used to writing when the spell is cast.
Normally, I’d say it was inspiration striking out of the blue, prompting several months, and sometimes years, of prose and poetry. When it settled, I’d have new material to pluck out on guitar strings until I glued myself back to another task.
However, now I’ve had about two years of uninterrupted non-inspiration, I can say very honestly that the driving forces of my creativity was self-centered loneliness.
I put that “self-centered” part so it wouldn’t sound pitiable. In reality, I was so desperate for a life outside bachelorhood that I’d forget how to live in a meaningful way. Everything needed a purpose, so in those times, my “purpose” was to be alone.
Hold on…I’m not explaining this right.
I was addicted to being alone.
When I was alone, I learned more, did more, prayed more, thought more, moved more. But I didn’t want to be alone.
Looking back, I think I needed that time. I needed to sweat out the toxins. It might have made me a better person. Not being alone certainly helped.
Anyway, all that to say it’s really hard to write this blog.
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