Writer's Block..

I looked up at the ceiling, taxing my brains as hard as I could to force it to come up with some amazing brainwave that would instantaneously fire my imagination. I looked at the fan, the walls, the LCD placed directly ahead and screwed my eyebrows in concentration. I went out into the balcony and stared at the cat looking haughtily back at me. I made faces at the cat, stuck my tongue out, threw up my hands and pretended to do a jig and finally after no response from its end I came back inside and went back to staring at the ceiling. Ah...Writer’s block again.

My Imagination had finally decided to pack her bags and take a much needed vacation to Imagineville. After relentlessly forcing her through a whirlpool of words and sentences, she had finally thrown a tantrum and decided she had had enough of my constant obsession with writing. Before leaving she had also advised my Subconscious to incessantly remind me of her importance. Afterall, I was prone to take her for granted.

I could totally imagine my Imagination looking scornfully back at me from behind those fake nerdy glasses she so insisted I sport in real life and saying,” Serves you right for putting me through your cryptic whims and phases.” This was ofcourse essentially true. I had first forced her through the philosophical phase, then the romantic phase, then the biographical phase and finally the gloom phase. So by the time I was feeling upto the humour phase, I had checked in only to find the note she had so unceremoniously dumped with my Subconscious. In it was written in bold letters- Better luck (though I seriously doubt it) without me!!

I finally decided to emerge from my musings and opened the laptop. The blank page mocked me. I desperately prayed for some random sensible jumble of words to magically appear on the screen. But even my comrade of life seemed to be in alliance with the one hell bent on ruining my life. I sighed. It was time to honour Imagineville with my gracious presence. My Subconscious chuckled. I gave her a dirty look.

So as I closed my eyes and drifted off, she emerged from behind the doors of her mansion. Hands folded across her chest, tapping her feet to some absent beat and wearing a most infuriating expression of smugness on her face she smiled at me like someone had just sold out free rights to an unlimited supply of hot chocolate for a year. I slumped my shoulders in defeat. And ofcourse she then had to go into a detailed rant of all my nonsensical whims and idiosyncrasies. I had no option but to listen patiently. Amateur writer that I was, I was entirely dependent on Her Highness for brilliant flashes of ‘Imagination’. Miss Highty Mighty might as well vent then decide to take a lifelong vacation in the Maldives.

At this point I emerged from my trance and looked at the white blank screen. I grimaced. I did take her for granted. In my mind’s eye she smiled at me and unable to stop myself I smiled back at her. And with a sudden flash of inspiration, I started typing as fast as I could, grinning broadly the whole time.