Academic journal article Hecate

Creativity -- a Personal Question

Academic journal article Hecate

Creativity -- a Personal Question

Article excerpt

lately it hasn't been easy putting pen to paper paper to pen and write

in the shadows

someone is lurking

I will not be afraid

no fear is with me

only emotion

like a full bodied

curse

a blood!

later he asked me what causes creativity he asked

it is emotion

summoned

it is emotion

coloured with colours

either or

any colour

colour me in rainbow colours

because I know you love rainbows

lately my writing has changed persona I am the third person I guess

`It is something I cannot explain,' she said

`But how am I to understand?' he asked, annoyed

`Perhaps you aren't to understand,' she answered,

promptly

later we ate a packet of chocolate macaroons his favourite and while his mouth was stuffed with chocolate he couldn't ask me questions

is this?

it is

indulgence

a mind & paper & pen

hoping a reader

does exist

hoping the mind

is not alone

I spin threads of web

and cry nothing

is new

with exhilaration

he thought it pessimistic

later when his mouth was empty he asked me if a person can learn to be creative I asked him can you buy it

I want 100% pure do you dear anything particular in mind

she asked with her painted smile behind the counter

Yes I want 100% pure I want it in bucketfuls

I'm sorry can't help you dear perhaps you should try cosmetics

she turned away

she became readily available to the woman standing next to me

with the 100% pure silk scarf in her hand

lately I have wanted to be a writer what is a writer

how does a writer survive

a cheque for $40 a book with my name in

means I can wear a red sticker -- be kind

to me today I am a published writer -- there

there was no blood, just pain, just cramp

just frustration with what to do of how

to move and what sound to make

later he asked me if creativity is breaking rules.

breaking or braking I asked him

I want more

than my fair share

Hedonist no suffering

only pleasure not

pieces eating cakes

not just ownership but

consumption

You are cruel

Give me more

than your white sports

coat and pink carnation

later he said you should be proud of your gift to write

lately I wonder how he could misunderstand so

don't give me the bare essentials

I want more than my back teeth

it was Christmas the saints were singing

carols in the park holding candles

nobody heard not even Santa though

I do not think he was amongst the crowd

not really

I want more more than your well wishing tinsel plastered electric light flashing Xmas trees

later in front of me he told one of his colleagues I was a

published woman I corrected published writer how embarrassing

I had just been joking

He apologised then asked is it not a question of gender that

causes you to write I did not know the answer though I

have often asked the question to my self often

sometimes I answer yes but never rarely know

I used to wish I was a man

now I wish I was a woman

finding out your gender

is harder than finding

out your sex

people will always tell you

that looks nice but

have you got a boyfriend

lately I have been writing Erica has white T-shirts on the line how does she keep them so white I'd like to ask her but I am busy writing there is a discipline in writing but what I write has little discipline it wanders dribbling down my page but only where I let it dribble fall

we are the rain

falling

on each other

you are my rain

I want to love you

like the rain

lately I have been wondering if I had everything would I still

write is writing an expression of need or a need in itself

all I want is a house

beside the sea

passionate grey sky

on stormy days

that is all I want

later he asked me will you ever stop writing I asked him

could you ever stop breathing

it is an ache aching

impulsive compulsive a disease

it is exhausting exhilarating

it is conversing over lunch without making sense

inside your head you are busy playing with

words that could look good on paper

it is trying to impress

it is blowing your own trumpet

it is taking risks of boring friends

it is the continual `is it good enough' question

it is listening

it is remembering

it is forgetting the dishes need doing

it is searching for an end

later it was getting later

I am getting angry

we are all getting angry

said the clown

later I had a bus to catch I told him

I am leaving

`good-bye' cries the gull as it is flying

`good-bye' sings the song as it is singing

lately I have been catching a lot of buses

Good-bye sings the song

Good-bye cries the gull

we are going home

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