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By Rhiannon D. Elton

Daemon’s are invisible supernatural beings that provided inspiration to ancient artists. In ancient Greece they were called “Genius”, but because that feels a tad pretentious, I’m going with Daemon.

Invisible and nameless, the daemon would enter the mind of the artist, whispering to them (or shouting at them) to produce a particular piece of artwork, poetry, story or play. This meant that an artist was also separated from the art they produced. If it was brilliantly glorious, changing the hearts of people everywhere, the artist could remain humble and say it was their Daemon who helped produce it. This offered someone who made something great a degree of safety. If they didn’t make something even better the next time around, it was because of their Daemon, not because they themselves couldn’t top their own grandness.

This went the other way too. If someone made a poem that was god awful or sang a song that made the audiences ears bleed it wasn’t their fault. It was the Daemon’s. You can’t hurt a Daemon either because… you know… they’re not corporeal.

I’ve realised a few things about my own daemon. It is nameless, which is odd for me because I like to personify things and give them names. I can’t see it (Because again…. Incorporeal and invisible) but I can feel it. Like that boulders of butterflies rolling over you as you weave between sleep and consciousness it pressed up against me. Like a fluffy, fat panda it gives me a lazy hug and whispers…

“Hey… that’s pretty cool…”

I can only agree. Whatever it is, it is pretty cool. Genuinely it’s quite fascinating.

“That would be pretty cool in a story. Add depth and stuff, yeah?”

Yeah, Daemon. It would. Good thinking.

But much like a cat it also has moments of being a complete and total spaz.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! It’s 3am! Wouldn’t it be the coolest if we wrote about that like right now?”

Yes it would be but it’s 3am.

“Oh? You’re sleeping? Well I’ll just keep replaying this scene over and over until I know you won’t forget it.”

Sure thing…

Then I dream about the scene. I wake up and brush my teeth thinking about the scene. I shower and am forced to make the facial expressions and motions of the characters. I wash the dishes thinking about the scene. Heaven forbid I drive and it still keeps playing.

Clingy daemon…

Then there is the daemon that paws at me like a cat that wants what I’m eating. It wants that food badly and mewls incessantly at me until I write. It’s similar to the clingy daemon, but this one is loud. This mood of daemon pokes and prods and demands. My fingers itch to write and as the frustration bubbles up to the surface I have to shut out everything until it is completely out of me.

There is no outside force that can stop them regardless of whatever the mood it is in. Except for technology.

Writer’s block, silent daemons and all those woes of writing all bloody come from not being bored enough! You heard me. Boredom feeds your daemon. Boredom is like a big fat feast of deliciousness for your daemon. Social media, smart phones, laptops, TV and computers all sap it. They drain it and starve it. They are the rice crisps of food for your daemon. The solution?

Bloody well get bored! Turn off all electronic devices and sit in a park. Lay on some grass. Walk along the beach. NO PHONE! Rest your daemon and feed it your boredom.

Remember. A happy daemon is a bored daemon.

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