Cuzco, Peru

Finding a voice/Giving voice to my frustration.

I want to write a story.
OK.
What do you mean OK?
OK to the concept of you wanting to write a story.
Well that’s not much help is it?
Am I supposed to be helping then?
If you wouldn’t mind.
OK.
Well?
Shall we begin with Lesson 1? First things first do you have an idea for the story, a subject, setting, characters or a message you wish to convey, a moral if you will?
No.
Ok.
Stop saying OK.
Very well. So to be clear you have a desire, a want, maybe a whim to write a story but you lack anything resembling an idea?
Yes.
Indeed. Well let’s try to be logical as illogical precipitation of falls all around us.
What do you mean by that?
Everything, nothing, the world, the worm, totality, normality, who knows, who cares?
What?
Apologies, I think I just had a prosaic fit, much worse are my linguistic seizures.
What do you say then?
Nothing.
Right. Back to my story.
Or lack thereof.
Quite.
We, rather you, need a starting point, a catalyst, a stimulant, a certain something to ignite your, thus far, inert creativity. Can you think of anything you desire to write about, a story you have read that inspired you perhaps or an author of whom you are particularly fond?
No.
I think I need another coffee, a hit of heroin, 5mg of methadone, industrial strength amphetamines and a fully loaded revolver.
But you don’t take drugs.
Or have a propensity towards suicide, so often your first successful attempt tends to be your last, but I am considering taking drugs as a viable alternative.
Alternative to what?
To not taking drugs.
I fear you digress.
I fear you persist.
My story?
Unquestionably. Let’s try another path - what was the last story you read?
Let me think.
For my part a wholly preferable method.
Sorry?
No need, I am quite enjoying myself.
The last story I read was...

¨Can I get you something else sir?¨
¨Another coffee please, strong.¨
¨And a slice of that rather delicious cake if you don’t mind.¨
¨One coffee - strong - and a slice of cake, no problem.¨

It would be surprising if there were.
Were what?
A problem. Pray haste, back to your thinking, heaven forefend we should stall at this vital juncture as the potential butterfly of your creativity emerges from its seemingly dormant chrysalis.
The last story I read was...I don’t know to tell the truth.
And thus the butterfly is but a moth. So not a vociferous reader then?
No, does a desire to write necessitate a history of reading then?
Indeed not and though I am sure quite unintentional your stand against the snobbery of the, at times, sycophantic literary world is admirable.
Writing is art no?
And art is inspiration and thus our problem, our stream to ford, mire to traverse, wall to climb and obstacle to negotiate makes it presence felt once more.

¨Your coffee - strong - and cake sir.¨
¨Why thank you.¨
¨Can I ask you a question sir?¨
¨But of course¨
¨Who are you talking to?¨
¨Alas, as ever, my frustration.¨

For those seeking further information on Cuzco, the nearby former summer retreat of the Incas - Machu Picchu - and a background to the fall of a once great empire please refer to any one of the following titles:

Inka Tinker: A life of pick-pocketing on the streets of Machu Picchu - T Hief
Inka Thinker: Musings on the Sun God - Phil Osophy
The Caring Colonialist - Q Victoria (one owner - F Pizarro, never read, as new)