By Cassandra O’Sullivan Sachar
I courted her; I wanted her, but she’s so demanding.
For ages, despite my beckoning, my desperation and writer’s block, she eluded me. I begged her to come and inspire.
But now she’s here, and it’s nearly a possession.
She fills me with words I must write, locks me to my laptop. I have laundry to do, papers to grade, bills to pay, a dog to walk, but she doesn’t care.
“Write,” she says. “Create.”
And I do. I’ve been dormant so long, a Mt. St. Helens writer. But now I erupt, spewing words like lava.
Still, I need balance.
“I write to free the words trapped inside of me, gnawing their way out through my fingertips.” – the writer