Mojo

Every now and again it goes, and no matter how much you want to find it, you can’t, you’ve lost your creative flow – your mojo, it has vanished.  You look, desolate, at the flickering cursor, it blinks back at you accusingly, daring you, taunting you, and you are lost, you have no flow to give!  It is a lonely place, writers block, is a cruel mistress, she lets the ideas race around your head, keeps you awake at night with phrases and moments just begging to be written, yet the cursor steadfastly just blinks back at you when you attempt to create those whiling scenarios. 

But, all dams must burst, all logjams must eventually give way to the pressure of the water.  What was held back, cannot forever be denied, and, just like that the blockage is gone, the cursor hungrily skirting across the screen, ideas taken flesh, perilous drama poised to be read, and you feel yourself breathe, air again flowing freely through your once trapped and tight lungs. 

The cursor no longer taunting, now waiting in expectation, pasting ideas on the screen at a speed that your hands are now too slow to type – oh, euphoria, to be prisoner of nothing more than slow hands is a joy, a blissful state of ecstasy as your imagination runs freely again across the screen and the little vertical line reveals line upon line of your minds free flow. 

We were once so bound, but now we are running free, and to paraphrase an oft abused cliché, freedom, it feels so good, so darn good!! 

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