Portrait of a Writer

      The lonely figure sat at the keyboard watching as the words flowed from her mind through her fingers to appear on the screen.  Dressed in her favorite pajamas and oversized robe, a cup of coffee sat off to one side now cold as the figure was so engrossed in what she was doing.  A cigarette dangled from her mouth with an ash about to drop and yet she was still unaware.

       The words flowed quickly as her fingers moved smoothly and with extreme speed along the keyboard to record each word the  muse in her mind was sending.

          With no interruptions, the muse actively jumped and danced and shouted out the words to the mind as the writer continued to type them as quickly as they descended upon her.  The story took on a life of its own with no control from the writer.  

          The muse was in control pulling memories from the past to interweave into the fiction being written.  The inspiration from visions, from dreams and real life transformed into a story pulling the writer into the center of its universe and making her feel the pain or the love or even the hate inspired by the characters who transformed mysteriously from thin air.

       For hours on end, the writer tells the story until the muse has lost its way, leaving the writer to sit and stare at the screen before her trying to add to what the muse has given her and yet the words seem to fail.

      Slowly the writer stands up, looking at the cold coffee and the stub of the cigarette.  Time for a break before the muse returns to send the words to be written.

Barbara Foster
Copyright (c) 2015