I can remember reading a long-past issue of Entertainment Weekly’s “It” issue. I’m fairly certain it’s an annual thing in which the editors jointly decide who is the give year's “it” girl, “it” writer, “it” special effects crew and all that. In this particular issue — I believe Heather Graham was on the cover, if that dates helps to date the memory — every person interviewed was asked what they used as a creative crutch. Most of them answered with the usual stuff: black coffee, cigarettes, yoga.
So here I am, alone in the house and typing at three in the morning in could be the best article I’ve ever done. Seriously. But as determined as I may be to get this done so I can enjoy the weekend, I seem to be hitting a creative block about every half-hour or so. Each time, I turn to something I’ve had since college started but haven’t ever used as a creative crutch: Smash Bros. It’s funny, because I haven’t touched in the game in months. But now, for whatever reason, whenever the words don’t flow like they should, I find myself firing up the Gamecube, taking my mind out of journalism mode and putting into whatever mindset most befits being a princess or a psychic ten-year-old or whatever and beating the crap out of everything I see.
For reasons I'm not sure of, this video game is somehow jogging my creative energies. By the time everyone I'm up against is adequately battered and screaming and sailing up and away to become a star in the sky, I’m ready to write again and I make more progress on this article, which presently seems more important than anything else I’ve ever done.
So what the hell does that say about me?