my working conditions

It's quite simple, really.

Something that trickles is the best soundtrack,

Whether water or music is subjective.

A space - room, building, chair -

So comfortable it is but an extension of you,

Another limb with which to compose.

If a beverage is desired,

Coffee or tea are classic companions

(Though coffee is best).

Internally, a simple nudge will suffice;

If it is something larger, well, the more the merrier.

But it doesn't have to be big; it can be something so small

You can barely see it laying in the palm of the Muse's hand.

It mustn't be complex, either -- for now, it is time to simplify.

The complexity will come later (trust me).

A curious rumbling in the heart of hearts;

I prefer something that startles as much as it entices,

Something that instills fear as much as it lures me to open the box.

A crammed notebook is a stellar complement,

And not just full of ideas, either.

Turns of phrase; definitions and synonyms;

Images, printed, drawn, or remembered;

Metaphors weighing down the page

And similes like bullets in the chamber ready to be fired --

The bricks that will become the stone wall of your composition.

Close your eyes, now.

Take a deep breath.

Here, you don't have to be anything but yourself,

Whoever that already is or whoever you want it to be.

These inked lines or typed pixels contain no judgement.

Tell them what you have to say, and let them speak back to you.

It doesn't have to be perfect,

It doesn't have to rhyme,

It doesn't even need to make much sense.

All writing is beautiful writing, because it exists.

Your writing is beautiful

Because it's yours.