In Her Head

Debbie had a gift. She can write. It doesn't matter what the style, short fiction, social commentary, satire, reflections. The thing is, her muse comes and goes. One day, Debbie will be really excited and whip up something very satisfying. Then three weeks will pass when all her ideas careen around the inside of her skull, ramming into the sides and each other, doing their best to become nonsensical. A friend will comment about what a delight it is to read her work and will ask why she doesn't write more. Another friend encourages her to stick with it, that her talent will shine through and some day she'll make it big. Debbie files these comments on a shelf in her brain and wonders what the true definition of a gift really is. If she only uses her gift sparingly and not for commercial gain, does it stop being a gift? If it is only a hobby, does that make it less of a talent? She doesn't want to waste what she's been given. And she desires to use her gift to give to others. Sometimes it's just hard. "I think I'l write about that," Debbie says to herself. But the idea ricochets off a dozen other thoughts and sinks to the bottom of her head.