Does the occasional brilliant thought spur one to write a paragraph or a novel? Can that spark, or let’s say, lightning strike sustain an outpouring of words indefinitely? What do we allow to interfere, act as a circuit breaker so to speak, when the current is flowing at such high voltage? If we suddenly stop, will we get shocked and numbed back into reality, and can we find our way back again to the sparse utopian world of a writer that is a closed room with a computer and a chair and no telephone, need for food or needy spouse and children?
Actually, I would think that producing words would slowly peter out and end in my so-called image of Utopia. The stimulus in fact, comes from a writer’s interaction with the real world of people, meals and vacuuming. From them the ideas form in reflection or emotional reaction. From there we turn them into words.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology