When Words Fail

I’m sitting behind the Christmas tree, surrounded by yellow star like lights and colorful reflective balls. The music drifts up from downstairs in the kitchen faintly, the soundtrack from The Hobbit. The lights are all turned off except the tree and everything is peaceful. 

As a writer, it is frustrating sometimes. A million words and ideas buzz around in your head and they’re all beautiful, but there’s never anything enough to expand upon. I sit at the computer and want to write something; come up with an amazing blog post, a heart rending short story. I want to capture fleeting feelings down onto paper and into words, but they refuse to be tamed. So I sit around and wait for those moments, those rare moments of magical inspiration where all my thoughts line up into one cohesive thought and the words brim over from my mind and through my finger tips. But those moments are very few. It is said the hardest part about being a writer is actually writing; and though I do love to write the words down; when my wonder struck thoughts whir unceasingly and words do not seem sufficient for what I want to convey, then yes, the actual writing is the hardest part. Someone who can consistently turn out beautiful work is the one who can take hold of a single thought at any time and expand upon it; not letting it dance tantalizingly just out of reach. This is probably one of the key things to learn to be a good writer; one that I’m still trying to figure out. Inspiration isn’t what is really lacking though; it’s the inspiration that drives out inspiration, the distractions that flood in from everywhere. But when I do capture what I want to say; when I put into words a feeling that was so elusive and mysteriously beautiful; I get a feeling of contentment, of satisfaction with my work. This feeling is enough to drive me ever on, through all the days when the words don’t seem to want to come and my mind is filled with frustrations because the ideas don’t want to sit still long enough for me to think them through. Being a writer is a very hard and patient trying job; but I wouldn’t want to do anything else, not ever.

The music from downstairs fades, the lights on the tree go dim and the entire world goes black. My mind, it goes black too, and there is nothing left. No words, no busy thoughts of things to do, no anxious worries. Just the heart beat of a trembling, wonder struck soul and this one thing also; the ability to create anything, to write anything. To be, experience, travel and explore… anything. The ideas explode and collide in my mind, a beautiful cacophony of mysteries to be made known. This is what words will do for me; they will help me unravel the mystery of life, in all its endless, breathtaking possibilities.