Hey Friends, you ever have a day at work when you wanted to literally kill someone, or at least maim horribly? I'm sure you have. Well, last night I had thee worst day at work. I'm a machinist by trade and the job entails one to be both crafty with their hands as well as their minds...kind of like a surgeon.
Anyway, it was that type of night when everything and anything went wrong. Sizes on the parts were off, robot was acting up, on and on with out end. One thing after another until it came to a point where I'd had enough.
I stepped away, angry, frustrated, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Why can't I figure this out? I glared at the machine I run, and then turned away, disgusted with the job and the work.
My eyes strayed to my note book, where, I have begun a new novel. I stared at it for a long time before looking away. But found myself staring back at the notebook again, mystified by it.
Frowning, forgetting about my job, I sat down at the desk and opened the notebook to a clean page. I pressed the clicker on my pen, producing a ball point, and lowered the pen to paper.
The next ten minutes I was lost. Writing, writing, writing...
It wasn't until a buddy saw me there and tapped me on the shoulder did I realize how entranced I was with what I was writing. How deeply absorbed I'd become to allow everything else to fade away.
I came to, blinked, and looked up at my buddy. He smiled, shook his head and walked away.
My eyes found my notebook. It was then I discovered I had written a ten page short story that I vaguely remember writing.
It's gruesome, perhaps the goriest piece I've ever wrote. But there it was, a complete story.
After that, i felt better, I stood up, walked over to my machines (I run nine of them), and soon figured out my problem and got everything running smoothly again.
Sometimes writing can be like a trance, or a rest from the everyday pains of work and so on. A venting tool, per say. Perhaps, I suppose, that's how some writers stay sane...perhaps...