POETRY
The Novelist and the Elusive Perfect Story
The angst of not being good enough
I knew this poem had to be written as it captures the agony of being a novelist who knows the perfect story is beyond reach. I wanted desperately to write a story that would outlive me by decades, if not longer. I know that I have the skill to write well — yet do I have that special gift that would take my writing into the stratosphere of a great novelist?
in the dim-lit hours of dusk he sits hunched over his desk fingers tracing lines of memory on a blank sheet of paper grasping at wisps of inspiration dancing just out of reach
marks etched upon his face lines deepening like the furrows in a fallow field waiting for the seed of a story to take root to bloom beneath his pen
his mind is a labyrinth a maze of half-formed ideas twisting and turning leading him down paths of forgotten dreams of lost loves and broken promises often lost in plot holes of unfinished novels
each word he writes is a battle won a triumph over doubt and uncertainty yet still he strives for perfection chasing elusive phantoms through the corridors of his mind
he wrestles with the ghosts of characters echoes of his inner dreams their voices echoing in the chambers of his soul demanding to be heard to be given life upon the page yet he falters hesitant to grant them release
the blank page mocks him a vast expanse of emptiness taunting him with infinite possibilities an endless potential for failure for falling short of his dream
he labors on a solitary figure in a world of words seeking solace in the act of creation in the rhythm of sentences the cadence of his prose
he knows perfection is a mirage a shimmering oasis on the horizon forever just beyond his reach and yet he cannot help but chase it driven by the relentless pull of his passion
I want to thank Adrian CDTPPW for publishing this poem on Read or Die.
Here are a few other stories worth your time to read by other writers on this publication.