Writer's Cramp

Will the unwritten novel be pulled from the filing cabinet? Writer's Cramp Contest entry.

    How did eleven years pass so quickly? It seems like only yesterday since I wrote the first sentence. It turned into another, and another. Soon a paragraph, then a chapter! Suddenly, my mind drew a blank! Writer’s cramp they tend to call it. Well, that was eleven years ago now. The rat race of life had pushed the unfinished novel further and further to the back of my filing cabinet. I thought about it every so often, over the years. Those thoughts usually sprang forth on winter evenings when a chill stabbed the air, rendering my outdoor fun non-existent.

    With cherished thoughts of my superb plot idea, the bestseller that I would have, soothing my boredom, I spent days, then weeks, and months doing everything except pulling the binder from its sleepy hiding place. Life has a funny way of flying past faster than ever, especially as the years move on. The hours spent at work, then daily chores and responsibilities, tend to leave one feeling spent.

    The motivation required to overcome this writer’s cramp, like an illness of the mind, was almost insurmountable. As I stared down at the binder, having decided to clean the cabinet of the items I hadn’t looked at in eleven years, I wondered: Is it really true that I just don’t have time? Is it a lack of confidence that sent the book hiding in the first place? Should I have another go? Why not!

    It seemed so easy after making a decision of commitment. I decided that it didn’t matter about editing. Just writing the thing would an accomplishment in itself. If it takes another 11 years to edit, well so be it, at least I could say that it was written. The binder was warped from being jammed against the back metal frame of the filing cabinet, and deciding that I just couldn’t enjoy this treasure in such a bent cover, I went on the hunt for another.

    I found two binders, also hiding in the cabinet. The first was full of all the old poems I’d created over many years. I was thrilled to pull them out one by one, reading and enjoying. I decided that typing them out so they were electronically filed would be a good idea. First I would explore the next binder. This one had to be pried loose from the edge of the filing drawer. Wow, how excited I was to open it and find neatly written notes, ideas collected over years of inspirational moments and imaginative thoughts.  Now I wasn’t sure where to start. Should I continue the novel, retype the poetry, or seek and discover thoughts that I had packed away eleven years ago! I was beginning to feel overwhelmed.  That’s when the telephone rang. It was my daughter.

    “Hey mum. I just sent you an email link to a writer’s site. I think you’ll love it.” She explained, and went on to elaborate about the Writing.com community. She had signed up and already had written a poem. She wanted me to read it. An hour later I had my own portfolio, had enjoyed reading my daughter’s work, feeling accomplished vicariously, and was discovering my own words again.

    The binders were stuffed back inside my filing cabinet, left for another day. This time, not because writer’s cramp and life in general was interfering with my creativity, but rather, my creativity had changed. I didn’t need to release the novel from eleven years of hiding; I needed to create in new and exciting ways. I have been doing so ever since.