Shoulder Vultures, you know them. They ride up there in direct competition with chips, tiny angels, little devils and parrots.
My personal vulture sneaks in with the delete and backspace keys on my lap-top. I remember the olden days, when color was grainy, hair was big and deleting things involved bits of torn off carbon paper and a sharp edge.
When mine has full run of the creative process, she congers up huge shadows of self-doubt. My shoulder vulture is what many writers refer to as writer’s block.
I only send her off during November when I participate in the National Novel Writing Month and I know she is fed, watered and set to work correcting spelling errors in various term papers. Nevertheless, when I pick her up after Thanksgiving, I find her withdrawn and pouting.
I am actually very attached to my vulture. She keeps me on topic, she catches plot holes and reminds me that just because I got it down on a page, isn’t enough to make it worthy of reading. Without her, my life would be one, very long, unfiltered, run-on sentence, and you would have to read it!
For the past few days, I’ve let my shoulder vulture pick and tear at my words, ideas and my faith in my ability to write and edit a story worthy of you.
Today, she flapped her wings and asked if she could go off for a day to visit another writer she knew who needed some counsel. I am not alone with my delete key. A younger and rather distracted vulture in training is visiting. She weighs a little less and seems distracted by the slightest activity.
Will the writer who has my well trained and somewhat naggy shoulder vulture keep her supplied with typos and mixed metaphors?