One of my favorite hashtags is #jimihendrixisgod. I typed this into a tweet once because it just needed to exist and oh yes, it was already out there.

I listened to Jimi Hendrix Blues today while cleaning Elric’s tank (yes, that Elric) and spitting out fingernails over ending the novel I’m working on. And I started contemplating things.

Hendrix and the writing process are similar, in my universe anyway. I’m what you could call high frequency, high amplitude (think sine wave). This is a rough way to live but a great way to write. It gives birth to stories.

Hendrix knows. When words suck, I’m born under a bad sign, I wish I was a catfish and the willows weep and moan for me. Then Jimi tears into a riff that takes it straight to the stars. Words are good and everything’s going to be all right. Every story is in there, some place.

I’m a voodoo chile. (Yeah I had to say that.)

© F.T. McKinstry 2015. All Rights Reserved.