Waiting used to be the hardest thing.

Those days when the words don’t come, or the mental pictures won’t form. When it looks like the muse isn’t home, and the cupboard of inspiration has nothing in store. Those days can be torture.

But I’ve learned to ride out the lean periods. I’ve learned to find other stuff to occupy my time and mind while waiting. It hasn’t gotten easier; I’ve just learned to cope better, knowing the muse won’t be gone for long.

Yes there will be dry spells, when a writer’s mind feels bereft of write worthy thought. Time drags when it happens, and it brings its own pressures. But the consolation is that normal service is soon restored, because even the universe knows, that a writer only truly lives when his random thoughts are able coalesce into words and form a sensible pattern, out of absolutely nothing.

Waiting used to be the hardest thing, but I’ve learned to do it with a smile because now I know, that lean periods are like the unnaturally intense calm, just before the burst of a monster storm

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