My necessary tools for writing have always been a blank notebook and a pencil. This has always been the way. In the past I have been given notebooks for birthday or Christmas - beautiful notebooks, but I have put them away on a shelf because the pages are lined.
A couple of days ago I found myself writing fervently... with a Bic biro in a lined, spiral-bound notebook taken from work.
Why is this so odd?
I have always shut out the possibility of using anything but blank paper and an HP pencil because I thought anything else would quell my creativity. I built up this wall hoping to protect what I thought was my creative mind. Breaking through seems to have released something. Apparently not poetry, but certainly prose.
It seems my friend was right. I am now looking at the world from a different creative direction. Having this blog in mind I try to make everything interesting so I can write about it. Okay, sometimes I fail on the 'interesting' scale, but for me this feels creative. And this makes me feel good.
I even attempted opening a blank MS Word document to see if this encouraged anything more than a blog entry. Not yet, but perhaps I will keep trying. I can't limit myself and still expect great things to happen. I need to be open to anything, as long as it allows me to express myself.
Perhaps I shouldn't limit myself to the label of 'poet'? After all, poets write poetry... what I am is a creative mind. I just need to find my direction.