Writing is a curse. A disease that won't go away. A temptation that I cannot resist. An agony that I have to endure. For days, I will be in the vacuum mode where no thoughts can enter the realm of writing, a dazed brain that sturggles every minute to crystallize a simple sentence. This frustrates me to no end, no subject seems fascinating and there is a general feeling of despair. The thought paralysis spreads to other activites and the final stage is self pity.
The other leg of the journey is equally arduous.
The days when the heart seems to sing and brain is high on ink (or key board sound) words seem to tumble out like passengers from the bus to tirupati.They seem to run all around me and all I have to do is catch them and order them around - make them dance for my pleasure or put them on a march.