Being intuitive is a blessing. I’m not clairvoyant, nor am I a psychic medium, but I do listen to the little voices in my head. I trust my gut and if I didn’t do that my beliefs and my vision would be extremely limited. Those wise, inaudible voices have led me in directions that I would never have seen myself going and they have stopped me from making some egregious errors in judgement. Sometimes I am deaf to their sage words but I blame nobody but myself for tuning them out. I know they were there and could only sit back, shaking their heads in disgust and disbelief when I ignored them.
That divine breath, those silent whispers help to feed my creativity. Their incessant murmurs push open the door to my imagination and their audacity knows no boundaries. There is no time of day that is sacred, no moments that they do not feel their intrusion is warranted and there is no warning before they emerge. Once my third eye is open, words seem to fight over themselves to be the first to reach my fingertips and be expelled onto the screen. I am grateful for those whispers and will heed their advice for as long as they bless me with their wisdom.
As much as I would like to take full credit for the words I compose, I must feel that intuition when I’m writing. That third eye, that sixth sense, allows me to combine strings of words that make sense. They make me feel the way the characters in my stories would feel. I have to know their thought process and how they would react to the situation I carelessly cast them into. Those murmurs in my head help me hear the voices of those characters.
Writing would be a very lonely business were it not for those invisible cries of tiny authors that wait, sometimes not so patiently, on my shoulders. Do you hear the voices too?