For some reason, Coldplay’s been making me cry lately. I don’t know why, but at the first sound of Chris Martin’s voice, I get a little tear in my eye. It’s not completely strange to be moved to tears by Coldplay. I’m sure there are quite a few of you out there who’ve gotten choked up over Fix You, and who hasn’t cried to The Scientist after a bad day? But Charlie Brown? Princess of China? Really, it’s the whole Mylo Xyloto album that gets me going.
Is this what writing has turned me into? An overly emotional creature who teeters from deliriously happy to tears in seconds? One minute I’m feeling confident and buoyant, the next I’m reduced to a blubbering mess by the sight of the blinking cursor on a blank Word document. I have all this time to write, yet I can’t seem to string together enough words to create a coherent story.
That’s when the Coldplay comes in, the soundtrack to the self-torture of writing when the muse is AWOL. “Just keep writing,” I whisper to myself, “Just keep writing.” And in the background, Chris Martin pleads with me once again, “Don’t let it break your heart!”