The Day of a Creator

Like the rope that holds the ship to anchor, I clutch my pen as I stare down at the blank piece of paper, hoping the ideas will start flowing.

I sit under the big oak tree in my backyard, feeling the gentle breeze tickle my face.

Usually, the ideas pour out of me like water out of a faucet.

But today, it feels like a dam is blocking everything.

I set my journal down, lifting my head.

The sun is shining bright, but the shade of the leaves protects me. The air keeps me warm, though.

I look at my house, which is gray with white trim and a black roof.

Potted plants are sprinkled around the perimeter. Their vibrant colored blooms bring splashes of beauty to an otherwise dull canvas.

I smile.

Sometimes, I forget I live in such a lovely nature-influenced setting as I spend much of my time sitting at my dark brown writing desk, often eyeing my computer screen.

So, instead of writing, I begin drawing.

I first focus on the shapes of my home; the different curves and angles capture my attention.

Then, I work on shading. It's challenging without my charcoal pen, but I don't want to break off my flow.

Once I finish my drawing, ideas begin trickling in, and I begin jotting them on a fresh page.

At last, I can write!

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