Inspiration

What good can one do on a Saturday afternoon, sitting writing at the laptop? The better question is, what good I can do, period. Which leads me to ask, what good should I do, and what do I want to do?

I’m an instructional writer. That’s my career, not just my job. My job is just a whisper of what I can be. But I think with a bit of work and patience it’ll develop into a passion and vocation. First, I’m a writer. I’ve always been one. Strange thing is, I had no idea this could by my vocation, that I could make a life out of it.

Part of my job is to develop scenarios to illustrate the points I’m teaching. I’ve realised it’s good practice for ‘real’ writing, for writing fiction, or anything for that matter. It’s the most creative part of the job, and so I thought, why not spend some time looking at it more closely?

Why not write a little scenario to motivate myself to get on with it. This is just the beginning.

Here goes:

Suppose you’ve just been elected genius of all time, for your brilliant contributions to humanity and the world. The guys at Nobel have created a new prize specially for you – the old one smacked too much of mediocrity.

Now imagine that you’ve volunteered for a project. The project is to take you, clear your memory and self-concept, and see if your innate genius can make it all happen again. The researchers will never reveal themselves to you, and you’ll have no recollection of a past before the “moment of birth”, as they like to call it.

No-one, not even you, knows if it’s possible. But, more than any of your achievements, you feel it’s an experiment that will benefit all humanity.

So one day you step into a chamber at the research facility, rather like a cocoon, and lay down on the bed. Half an hour later, they remove you, and lay you on your mother’s breast.

For many years now they’ve been observing you.

The results have been mixed. You’ve shown flashes of brilliance and bursts of creativity, but nothing much to indicate that there’s anything left of the creative powers you once showed.

Actually your behaviour has caused some concern. Why, for example, have you spent so much time mulling over the meaning of life? Why have you wandered lost for so long, in fields of sadness and apathy? Why have you put so much energy into doubting yourself? They’ve started wondering if the whole thing really was such a good idea after all.

Now, suppose today you get a postcard from the post-office, instructing you to collect a telegraph. It seems strange since no-one’s used them in years, but you go and collect it anyway.

At the post-office the clerk looks at the notice you hand her, and back at you. “I don’t think anyone here sent this to you. We don’t use these anymore – must be a mistake. Anyway the date’s recent so I’ll go and have a look.” She goes to the back. Five minutes later, she returns with a confused look.

“This was hidden down the back of the telegraph drawer, and I had a time trying to get it out,” she says. Turning the small square of paper over she says, “Odd, It’s not a format we use anymore. Wait, even the date’s wrong – that decades ago.” She hands it to you and you unfold it, and read the message typed on the dry yellowed paper.

You leave the post-office mulling it over. The message seems pretty random, just one word. Maybe it’s just some weird mix-up.

But somehow it also makes sense, as if it’s a reminder or hint, some kind of clue. Maybe the universe is sending you a message. Whatever, you start feeling uplifted, like maybe there’s more to life. You’re not sure what it is, but it’s like you realise deep down that there’s a growing plant inside you, and you need to give it far more air and light. You need to tend it.

It’s as if you’ve been given a little inspiration, a breath to get you going. So, breathe.