The Aging Writer

t_hardy (2)
I’ve noticed a few subtle changes in my writing process.

Those eloquent ‘perfect’ words that once rolled off the creative conveyor belt, unfettered, no longer do. I often find myself pausing, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, my progress halted.


Because of a word.

A word I knew, but can’t recall. A word that chose to dissipate, vanish from memory, abandon the author in time of need. Not that the specimen was unique; a literary gem or a sesquipedalian expression worthy of a Doctoral Thesis—rather a vivid noun or concise adjective, one perfectly suited to complete my thought. Yet despite effort, the word eludes recollection, lost in a sea of ill-used modifiers and vague simplicities; a cluttered mind deluged with bland generalities.
sesquipidalian (4)

The result is predictable. Creativity stalls, frustration festers, and the online thesaurus makes an ugly appearance; like a shady drug-dealer plying her trade.

Ah, aging.

And then…

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