The hotel in my brain had been open but every room, on every floor, seemed to be empty. I got home from another 13-hour work day yesterday, opened the laptop and stared blankly at the screen. The lobby in my hotel was lifeless, the elevator was stuck on the ground floor and there was no movement in the confines of my cranium. The hotel in my head, for all intents and purposes, was closed for business. The hamster on the wheel of creativity was dead.
After a much-needed ten hours of sleep, the elevator is faintly humming once again. The front desk staff are present and smiling and the bellman is waiting patiently to assist me with my words. The neon vacancy sign still hums but the ideas are slowly coming to check in and the hotel is back in business. I’m hoping after a few coffee breaks the writing staff will be comfortably ensconced in their suites, ready to work, and the writing hotel will soon be sold out.
I have enjoyed the interaction with other people over the last five days but I will eagerly anticipate the required maintenance being finished at the hotel in my brain so I can hop on the elevator when I get home and reach the penthouse of idioms upon my return.
The vacancy sign of inspiration is flickering because the ideas have begun to occupy the rooms in the recesses of my brain. I’m hoping by tonight the prolific hotel in my mind will be sold out.