The page is blank, the mind is dull—waxen, even—and the day appears bleak, all because the words aren’t flowing, the ideas aren’t cogent, the plot seemingly vaporized, and five o’clock isn’t coming anytime soon.
The thrill’s not in the quill.
It’s like all those times in the Bible when all looks doomed, “but then” God arrives and crushes the enemy, “but then” He arrives and saves a soul, pops open cell doors, opens blind eyes, raises the dead.
But then—not out in the battlefield but in your writing nook—voilà!
Sparks fly off the keys as nouns perform, verbs whiz, adjectives define, conjunctions segue, and adverbs (Well, you don’t want to use any of those, do you? They’ve become the black sheep of the vocabulary and something I will defend at a relatively, voluminously, superficially, unpunctually later date.)…
The paralysis is vanquished. The Thrill of the Quill has returned, playing a stirring concerto—or rock-a-billy tune—along the chord of your emotions.
If this thrill is not the only motivation for authors to write, it is at the least a key force, a trigger that keeps us at the keyboard. Runners get a euphoric jolt of endorphins. Boxers experience a fight-or-flight burst of adrenaline.
Writers? Well, I can’t speak for others, but I thrive on the thrill of hearing from the Throneroom. When that happens, something special kicks in. That is, Someone special kicks in the door, rumbles over the alphabet and leaves when a thought or objective is elucidated, or a scene is completed.
Is this thrill an addiction? An affliction?
No and no. For me it’s a necessity. I love it. It keeps me going. And I hope you experience it, too.