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Quite some time ago, I was trying to come up with a good name for my new website. I was moving it from my old URL (http://landru.myhome.net/~kuetu) to something much easier to recall on FanSpace. For reason or reasons unknown, I chose silverpens, as a sort of indicator of the argent qualities in my authors.
Most people would say, "Oh, cool," leave it at that, and never really get into the why or wherefore of the name. I however, am not of that ilk, and I decided it needed something more.
At the time, though, I was giving a lot of thought to how much trouble I had on occasion when it came to writing. Sometimes it worked, and other times, I couldn't get a word out to save my life. I was then going through a phase of the latter type. Somehow, though, I managed to get a few of my feelings down on paper. Come to think of it, I was in Southcenter in a hotel room. Lots of time to kill.
I think I wrote the story simulatneously to satisfy my own psychological desires as far as the site name went, and also to put before mankind my interpretation of what writer's block and it's opposite, writing, actually feel like. The sense of futility that my namesake faces is my own, through and through.
I've since been informed that the time-sense in the story is a little odd. I almost intended that. In my mind's eye, the fuedal system will be the only viable form of government in the early days of space travel, and thus, I wrote that in, while sacrificing the sense of future that I strove for.
Unfortunately, I really like that feel to it, so it's staying.
One other little comment, just for my psychological comfort - I had a sense that the space between when he started writing and the point where he read the poem was not quite as good as the rest of it. Comments would be appreciated.
This is a good little story - among my top five, I think. Read and enjoy!