This post should have come out yesterday but my head refused to deliver. I had not one creative thought to be found. Indeed I had no thought at all. Where could I get my inspiration from. I half heartedly looked at subjects that might interest me on the web – but none created that little spark that set my fingers flying across the keyboard. I read some poetry and some daily thoughts but again – nothing. Wednesday’s post would have to wait.
Today I again sat and stared at my blank sheet feeling no more inspired than I did yesterday. I determined that I would just post my Flower of the Day for Cee’s FOTD challenge. A Bougainvillea. My favourites are the red and normally the purples do little for me but this one has a vibrancy about it that I enjoy.
Suddenly, from nowhere, came a germ of an idea as a response to Carrot Ranch’s 99 word prompt. So tiny it needed nurturing. A murder story no less written in the vernacular of the 1949 Californian Gold Rush days. Agatha Christie was going to eat her heart out.
I wish (but that was the last challenge). Perhaps I was being too ambitious. No. That creative block was back in full swing until I again thought Agatha Christie and how she may have overcome it (and really I doubt that she ever had writers block so this is pure literary fabrication.)
Agatha C clutched the keys to 1849 Lode Street in one hand and some documents in the other. “Finally it’s mine. Time for pay dirt,” she muttered, throwing the keys and contract onto the bench. She smiled as she unfolded the other document carefully. The removalists would bring the necessary tools.
Later she paced exactly eighteen steps from the back gate and forty nine steps from the easterly fence and started digging, hitting metal within minutes. “I’ve struck gold” she thought. Opening the metal box she pored through the manuscripts she’d written twenty years before. This time they’d sell.