Ushering in a new age through writing is hard!!!

I used to be one of you inferior beings once. I used to wake up from my nightly slumber and scoff at any books lying around and go on to the bathroom to grace the world with my rugged good looks. I read books, of course I read books. But after every page of those tomes had given up their knowledge and declared me their master, I used to engage in non-productive thought by cursing at these 'authors' making a fast buck through writing. It seemed to me that writing was the easiest thing in the world, the only activity marginally easier being the art of talking, walking and thinking. I mean, one merely has to look at the fact that Drew Carey wrote a number 1 bestseller to come unfalteringly to my same conclusion.

Oh god...how wrong I was.

It merely took me to start taking up writing as a career choice; due in large parts to my own unmistakable talent, my friends and Utada Hikaru; for me to realize the stark misconceptions I had harbored until the day I myself took up the pen and paper [or, as more accurately...the keyboard and word]. The career path of a writer is strewn with as many obstacles in his'her path as the amount of commas and semi-colons that suffocately brandish the works of Tolkien or Khalil Jibran. The prospect of writing a complete original tome [commonly known...as a book] is staggering to behold to the common writer wannabe that currently pollutes the Earth as we know it.

Unless your name happens to be J.K.Rowling.

Now, I am a fan of J.K.Rowling's works. I read every single episode of her Harry Potter opus with relish and pure pleasure, and I will admit that she has a flair for the unexpected. Too bad her skill with words is as able as a platypus struggling with chinese. It pains me, an aspiring writer destined to be in the upper echelons of intellectuals and society as a whole, to realize that Rowling made more money with her 5 books using words simple enough for toddlers to understand than Tolkien probably ever did. It pains me to struggle with words only to have the letters from her books mock me at every page.

Well...look at me...I kind of got diverted from the beaten path. Where was I?

Right.

The literary life of a writer, whether a song-writer, poetry-writer [I am aware they are known as poets], or simply that of a story-writer is laced with a poison that merely mentioning causes fear, uncertainty and doubt among those creatively gifted. This poison is to be mentioned by only those who are the most maniacally brave...those who would brave a dragon's lair for shits and giggles. And I am that person, mainly because I am currently afflicted by this poison...someone cast Esuna. Brace yourself, hug your loved ones, and settle all your debts, as I announce the name of this evil: Writer's Block.

This ailment grabs ahold of your soul like an anvil strapped to your ankles and doesn't let go until you have garnered the will necessary to defeat it...or until you die. Take for example me, inspiration has struck me and I have spent many an hour typing away at a fantastical journey of rediscovery and lost dreams, filled with the most inventive contraptions and a wholly original world that continues to baffle my mind as I receive flashes of its beauty and elegance.

Too bad I have been unable to put that damn world into words as of 2 hours ago. I know my characters, they are complex, they have dreams, loves, devotion and friendships...I know how they think, how they react to the unimaginable circumstances I have yet to transcribe into words and how they ultimately end up. Yet I am unable to put these complexeties into words even as I see them flash by as a kaleidoscope of war, love and friendship.

Thus, I am filled with nothing but the utmost respect for all those who rely upon their creativity for sanity and a living. Except Drew Carey. And I am afraid that I have yet to usher in a new age. But please be patient...I'm strong enough to trudge along to fulfill my dreams. No. Matter. What.