Writer’s laryngitis, an ailment that on one level renders you unable to speak and on another level, unable to write, this condition is more severe than the common, ordinary: writer’s block. The latter can be remedied by long sessions looking at a blank page and even longer days in your jammies. Writer’s laryngitis requires medicine; the pharmacy kind of prescribed liquid that you pour onto a spoon and swallow with a grimace, then about thirty minutes later your whole body slumps over your laptop and you can’t finish a sentence never mind a paragraph.
Communicating is out. Unless you are face-to-face with a pad of paper and a pen, you can not speak to the outside world. Sleep is the elixir. Long, uninterrupted lengths of dormancy that does not allow the REM state to be active. The golden liquid, that costs a week of lunches, has the ability to produce such a coma. Nothing else matters but the next dose of Tussionex.
For nearly three weeks I’ve had to be a listener, someone “up there” wanted me to be quiet, to sit on my opinion and to take notes. Protesting was too much effort. I sipped tea and curled up in a corner. But the world did not stop spinning while I was silent. No, it went on with or without my voice. My writer’s laryngitis recovered quicker once I made peace with listening. Another reminder of what I need to do and what matters most. I’ve learned that writing words are never silent; their impact has sounds that vibrate octaves above the normal speaking voice.
Write what you hear, think and feel….