Whispers of self-doubt can quickly set about our dreams and aspirations. Hushed voices, thick-set with self-deprecation. Whispers that in my experience, left unchecked, fast become deafening roars. Nothing speaks louder to my self-doubt then when I draw a blank.

When my mind (often so a whir with sentences and turns of phrase, that all I want to do is sit and write) echoes with the sound of inspiration closing the door on its way out.

No matter how hard I stare at the screen or the pen in my hand, inspiration flits away,  a few laughing steps ahead.

And I doubt.

Possibly, however, I should embrace the stillness where the storm of a story so recently took residence.

Allow the muscles of story-telling and talking to stretch out languidly, lazily skimming their words across my consciousness, without any pressure to provide.

Perhaps I should indeed sit quietly for a while. Note that my body and mind is asking for silence and not over-rule it for fear of an un-adhered to blog schedule.

If I permit the silence, then I shan't be able to hear the whispers of self-doubt...

...instead, perchance, the footsteps of inspiration, tip-toeing back into the room.