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like most writers, I have more ideas to write than I have time to get to the actual act of writing, or the effort to phrase any of them into words, so I usually end up jotting them down in an ideas’ notebook, bigger than the book I eventually end up writing, but when I do have to sit down and write about something, being forced by a deadline for example. I hit a mental block and I feel like I’m chasing ideas on a wheelchair. Even if you are not into writing at all. You should still be able to relate, because you must have had to do so at least at school. When a composition is due the next day or in an exam. We all used to assume the thinking- man position (an overly concentrated position that closely resembles the constipated-man position): elbows on the desk, cheeks resting on palms, mouth sucking the pen’s tip, maybe gnawing it, even if it isn’t yours, and eyes attached to the ceiling fan, until you add crazy eyes to the rest of the not- so- bright look but still no idea what so ever strikes you. But when I’m no the bus, on my way to college or to work, basically dreading an endless day, feeling so drained of energy and surrounded by the loud, agonizing Egyptian philosophers talking about the American/Israeli/Iranian/North Korean/Soviet conspiracy to steal our falafel recipe: I find my head swarming with ideas so I take out my phone and slowly type them down for later, so that my head wouldn’t burst.
However, what I do when brainstorming is more of a task than a wish, when I hit a dead- end; I just write about writing- Now regard- less of the number of times I’ve just used the word write in the previous paragraph, you’d be surprised at how easy it is to write about writing. It’s so easy that I’m afraid that this ends here…