(Skrivövning för kursen "Finding your writer's voice")

Task: Describe the reason why you do not dare to write fiction

I do not write because there is a dragon living under my window.  He is blue with silver scale and has this terrible rough smell, like something that just died and has started to ferment. He guards every step I take, every conversation I have and every attempt I make to try to write something real.  He makes my fears seem unreal and casts doubt on my emotions and thoughts, making it impossible to put ideas on paper.

There is also a witch sitting on my shoulder. She has long grey hair and evil eyes which stare me down and make me crumble. Her hair sways in the wind and falls forward in her ugly face, and into my eyes, distracting me from what I was planning to write. My mind gets empty when she looks at me her evil way, and her body odor makes me want to leave to shower. When I do my best to document a story from my life or my imagination, she puts a spell on my pen or my laptop and gets my fingers to cramp and refuse to write.

I just have one friend who helps me to write and that is the angel in my heart. She is this small glowing being, with soft touch and warmth spilling over into my essence. She shines on me and makes me feel alive and like myself. She never leaves me but seems to sleep when the dragon is roaring or the witch is nagging me. But then she wakes up and makes my heart soft and my mind open. It makes the dragon fall asleep and the witch fly far, far away on her nasty broom. Suddenly I have light inside. My brain and heart start working together, inspiring me and transforms my thoughts into black letters on a piece of white paper.

Lately, my intellect has worked hard in identifying what factors make the angel come alive and brighten my day? Is she indeed the one that scares my monsters away or does she only wake up when the dragon and witch are gone? Why have I given the dragon and the witch so much power for so long? How do I keep them away from me forever? How do I keep them from my children? My spirit is my muse, and why it is packed deep down so far under other negative powers in life, I do not know.

The only thing I have come to realize though is that the angel likes other angels. When I am in this room she always crawls out from her deep pocket, and looks at you with her eyes large of friendly curiosity. She is shining and glowing on all of you, making the experience of life real and rich.  This makes me comprehend that despite the wide extent of love and happiness in my life, I need more angels in my life.  Angels are special in that they make us who we are and scares away the expectations of others.