Writer's Block
I once groused that I would much rather be a scientist than a novelist as scientists never had think up things on their own. Writers, I groaned, were forever stricken with that career-terminating sickness, "writer's block".
Ivo cocked an eyebrow at me from behind his novel and I could tell he was valiantly stifling his laughter.
"What?" I argued. "It's true. All you have to do is figure things out. I have to make things up! You try writing a multi-chapter story!"
Of course he took the bait. "Alright," he said, marking his place in his book with a letter from his sister he intended to answer soon. "I shall tell you what I would write about were that to be my lot in life."
I would have thrown something at him but I was rather desperate for ideas.
"If I were to write a novel, I suppose I should like for it to be something along the lines of the Greek epic poems, but I should make mine the origins of planet Earth – how the many species evolved from a single cell developed in that steamy cauldron of elements that enabled life to begin.
"Actually, I might take a Michener approach and focus on one geographic locale over the span of time. Or maybe something along the lines of Bradbury's Martian Chronicles, bits and pieces of narrative from different times and places.
"Anyway, I would describe the changes on the planet – climactic and structural – and how that impacted on the existing organisms. So many aspects of this era lend themselves naturally to story-telling: the burying of entire eras in floods and earthquakes and volcanoes. Continental drift literally changing the earth to become what we know today. I might even do it from the perspective of some timeless being who watches from above to witness the extinction of one group and the birth of another, perhaps an alien being or one of the ancient Egyptian gods." He was chewing on his pen, clearly enthralled with his concept.
"Ivo, that sounds just like 'The Rite of Spring' from Fantasia," I complained, none the better for having my hopes raised that he might provide me with a topic I could actually use.
"Oh. Yes I suppose it does, doesn't it? Well, mine would be a superior version." And he settled back to resume his novel.
I threw my book at him.