Walls.
When trying to write, one thing that an artist (yes, a writer is an artist) fears most is the infamous “writer’s block.” That blockade of creative motion, the embargo on fresh ideas. It limits and stifles the writer, strangling him until he submits, gasping for air on the floor.
What is writer’s block? It is failure to recognize creativity within ones self. Writer’s block doesn’t exist in the real world, it exists only within ourselves, because we allow it to exist. It creeps up to us, slowly, quietly, and without trace as we type-type-type furiously away, and gently taps us on the shoulder.
“Hello!” It croons. “I’ve come to visit! I hope you don’t mind me dropping by!” And we do mind, and struggle as we may, we can’t seem to get rid of it when we want to. Only in our greatest desperation does a tiny little nugget appear in the rough, and we pounce on the first good idea that we think we see. But then, the shiniest object that we find after looking upon endless fields of coal is going to look much better than it usually would.
When we choose to block ourselves off (and we do choose it), we simply refuse to plunge deep, deep, down into the well of our own experiences and pull from it the refreshing water of creativity. But we must plunge, we must dig deep into those past experiences, those past lives we have long since “forgotten.” Forgotten only in the sense that we have failed to acknowledge their existence; they still remain near us (and close by, at that!). We must pull from this hidden reserve and create and mystify and illustrate the world around us. For without the light of creativity, the world would surely be entrenched in darkness.
.//chris