It’s bad when you don’t have time to write. But what can be worse is having time, and space, and all your needs met – yet nothing comes out.

It’s your third day at this writing retreat in the New England countryside. You won a contest a year ago and, full of anticipation, you travelled here to get to work. But so far, you haven’t composed a single line.

The hosts of the farm house deliver fresh blueberry muffins each morning. The ducks and pigs on the property seem to regard you with a sympathetic eye. And your bedroom / office overlooks gentle hills, a delightful stream, and fields of tall corn.

Yet you aren’t making progress.

Perhaps it is all the noise and lights coming from the nearby corn maze. During the day, you often hear voices drifting from the yellowed rows, and sometimes you swear you can just see, from your window, the movement of hats and heads inside the paths. At night, you see lights meandering. The laughter is louder around midnight, too.

But when you remark on this, your host shakes her head. “The corn maze is closed this year.” Indeed, you never see any cars parked by it nor spot anyone coming or going.

On the fourth day, you let slip that you are struggling to write. Your host looks concerned.

She says, “You should explore the maze! Many people say it helps them get inspired. Just don’t get lost!”

You aren’t sure you ever agree to this idea, and indeed start to mention that you have a mild childhood fear of being lost in a corn maze in the remote countryside with no mobile phone service. But soon your host has packed you a lunch hamper of blueberry muffins, a thermoflask of some hot liquid, and has given you a stained and crumpled map.

“Last year’s design,” she muses. “But I think it should be mostly the same this year.”

Without quite knowing how, you find yourself at the entrance to the silent, swaying maze. You enter and are immediately lost. The map is useless and the entrance / exit is nowhere to be found. A bird of some sort shrieks overhead.

Quickly the maze no longer seems entertaining. You have the strong feeling that you are going in circles. In desperation, you push your way through a stand of the corn, breaking through to the next path, but, to your dismay, this only brings you to a stranger part of the maze.

Now the sun seems lower in the sky (how is that possible?) and the corn has grown taller and closer together, almost like a forest. You think you can hear voices, too, but you can’t see anyone.

Then, to your surprise, you turn one more corner and find yourself facing a grand oak door, rounded at the top, set in an arch way of bricks.

This door does seem odd but when you look back, you can’t even make out the path behind you. Maybe this door will lead you out of the maze?

The door does not budge. It has a small brass plaque near the door handle:

Say the magic word.

You are bewildered. Magic word?! You need to get back to writing!!

But then you hear, at a distance, other people in the maze calling to you.

They are faintly telling you what the password is.