A word. That's what I'm looking for. A single, solitary word to begin with. But, of course, it must be the right word. No, not any word will do. This is the bane of my existence as a writer: the right word in the right place at the right time.

So many words to choose from . . . (okay; "from which to choose," however, I prefer colloquial speech in my writings, so don't bug me.)

In pop culture terms the right word is a "hook." It is a word that opens a door to a world--a world of either here or there and a time and place. Sometimes the place is nowhere and that is where I'm at. It's sad and it's frustrating as its touch eludes me.

Yes, the touch of a word--can move a mountain to shake--or a heart to break. Its power and sheer majesty is a force to be reckoned with by all who speak it. The right word in the right place a the right time.

I fight for inspiration to strike with a resounding blow as I grapple with shadows on a wall. There are an abundance of wrong words to use, and I seem to know them all. They float like dust motes through a sunbeam; and I'm worrying the worm that lives in the core of the apple.

A word that is a precise metaphor for everything. A very specific word. I've seen it before. I know what it is.

But I forget.

"Lawd, hab mercy," exclaimed my old gay southern uncle in times of perplexing insouciance. But his god was cold and deaf.

No rest for the weary; no scraps at the table, until, at last, the moment arrives, often strictly by chance, when lightning strikes and powers the light bulb over your head.

Not only is there one right word but sometimes an onslaught ensues and ther is an embarrassment of riches.

The right word has an easy wit. It sums up an eternity of exposition and is its own logical conclusion.

Wait! I got it!

The word is . . . mmm--I forget.

Want to comment on this Prose? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Prose and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...