Literature
Losing The Creative Spark
Somewhere in the depths of my mind is an everlasting well of ideas. But sometimes it's hard to lift the heavy lid. And around it has grown up a tangled jungle called Real Life, making it hard to find amongst the clusters of thoughts.
The very thing that I used to love escaping from has subdued me, caught me in its grasp. I used to write instinctively, without thinking. I hated having to analyse language in English lessons, because I didn't believe that writers put any conscious thought into their work. Now, I'm more than happy to analyse everything I read or write - which leaves less room for sudden flashes of inspiration. I believe that once