Somewhere, tucked away in a darkened corner of the attic inside my brain, are the words that I desperately need to complete the revisions to a client's project I've been working on for the past week or so.
It reminds me of my old newspaper days when you'd hit the equivalent of a writing "speedbump" and that word, the very one that would so perfectly complete a thought, a sentence, a headline was just beyond your grasp. My colleagues and I would helplessly confront one another, adopting a robotic monotone, endlessly repeating, "Word needed! Word needed!"
I've done a lot of writing lately representing a variety of voices, subjects and styles. I've been in a fairly consistent state of one-upmanship with clients as my words have become theirs and their words have, in some cases, replaced mine. Well, says the little writer who lives somewhere deep in my soul, if you thought that sentence was good, it's only because you haven't seen this one yet. And the battle of the wordsmiths would resume and I would hurl myself headlong inside of it.
But then ... it just stopped. (If you've ever fancied yourself a writer, you know exactly what I mean.) Instead of languishing in a steady stream of literary love, I find myself drowning in a linguistic dearth of epic proportions. It feels very much like being mid-shower when someone tries to do dishes or flush the toilet. It's that startling a jolt.
It's been a fabulous few weeks. My fear is that the proverbial well of words has now run dry. (Maybe I really did use up more than my share of valuable brain cells in less than productive -- albeit infinitely amusing -- ways in college and the piper now has come to exact his price. EEK!)
Somewhere. Buried beneath countless cobwebs, aging memories and mental photographs from long ago scenes from a much-younger me's life (oh my God, look at me! I was sooooo thin!) I shuffle through them, peek here, peek there and yet those words continue to elude me.
Here, wordy, wordy, wordy. Where arrrrrrrrrrrre yooooooooooooooou?!