So you’re staring at the white screen, your favorite drink next to you, perhaps some good music in the background to set the mood. But you just sit there, watching the little black cursor blink…blink. You want to write something…no, you need to write something. No…you need to want to write something. You’re grade-A frustrated, and nothing coming out of your head, all the ideas, seem worthy enough for what you’re trying to accomplish. The characters you’ve spent weeks creating are taking a nap inside the couch of your mind. You’re screwed…Ah, and this would be a good song to write to…damnit!
Suddenly a goldfinch finds a way to fly into your room and lands on your mouse pad: “I have an offer you can’t refuse.”
“In ten seconds, someone will knock on your door. Obviously you’re frustrated, and I hear you. Us birds, we’re frustrated too…I mean, life kinda sucks. I mean, it’s hot!”
“So basically, when there’s a knock on the door, I can make it whoever you want it to be. Let’s make it a writer. Living or dead…it can be anyone…you’re gonna pour them coffee, and you get to pick their brain for two hours.”
“Living…or dead. Think about it.”
And so the goldfinch flies away, leaving you to your blinking thoughts and transcendent music.
If you could spend two hours talking with any writer, living or dead, who would it be?