Literary Enlightenment in ‘Subways’

No not the subway. That would be too dramatic. Or subway down-town in New York. I mean ‘Subways’. The home of the six or twelve inch sandwich that could effectively choke a horse, or any other drunken reveller, or poorer soul looking for a cheaper place to eat. It’s the idea that a writer needs that special place to write before creativity flows. Traditionally that could be a be-spectacled man or woman looking forlorn out of an original Victorian sash window onto a natural scene of beauty. Or if it is a down-trodden scene then it’s a well-chosen place, slightly edgy. The odd addict handing out the ‘Big Issue’ while urban trendies pass by pacifying their inner-guilt with some new- wave, non-gender specific, techno sounds. For me, when the writing bug strikes, it strikes, and environment has nothing to do with it. It’s just taking the idea and rolling with it.Of course ideally you would have a notepad or a laptop and start the tappety tap tap tapping as your monumental next great thing rolls effortlessly across the screen. The mood inside and outside is important for some. Outside it’s raining just the very light piffly rain that one can barely notice but it’s there casting a thin mist of misery over your day. Unless of course you are one of the new happy clappers who have signed up for happy classes to train yourself to experience nothing but mild contentment what ever the occasion. But that has never been for me either. Schooled in Dharma and taught to accept the shit and the shine. All effortlessly arises and then falls away. Unless of course I am really pissed-off and know it and want to indulge in it. Where was I? The rain. ‘Subways’ not subways. A sausage and egg sandwich and cup of tea. Builder’s tea as they now say. Since when was the nation’s favourite drink reduced to a class stereotype? And the rain outside. And the people passing by and I am rhyming why oh why. Ah yes, when lightning strikes. A writer must write. Not just twice but until the creative flow has exhausted itself and the writer disappears leaving only the writing. (I am fully aware that the image in no way relates to my articles but do find it quite inspiring)

writers writing
artistic inspiration

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