I have writer’s block. Usually, after I finish one blog post, I begin brain storming for the next. It only takes a day or two, well, sometimes three, to come up with an idea. If I need to do any research, and I use the term ‘research’ lightly, I get that done. Then I sit down Tuesday morning and bang it out.
That is not how it has gone this week. Last Tuesday, I submitted my blog post and then nothing. Nothing on Wednesday. That was fine though. Nothing on Thursday. That bothered me a little, but still nothing to worry about. Something would present itself, or perhaps I would wake up Friday morning with ideas that were revealed to me in the night. Friday arrived and nothing. Now maybe I should panic. Saturday was spent watching my son play basketball and all thoughts of the blog were pushed to the dark recesses of my mind. Sunday, the pressure tried to seep out, but I refused to acknowledge it as I had a delicious ham to eat, because we all know that if you ignore a problem it will go away. But then Monday came, and it was time to get into gear. Nothing. I made a pan of brownies.
I like to let an idea simmer in my mind; it grows and changes and morphs into something better than when I first thought of it. But I had no idea to grow and morph. Even if I thought of something so late in the game, it would just be a caterpillar, not a butterfly. Nothing against caterpillars, but I am more partial to butterflies.
So, it’s Tuesday. I’ve got nothing except an empty brownie pan. I thought it might be fun to do a stream of consciousness writing, but then I thought maybe I shouldn’t: I like my job.
Writer’s block. It happens. It’s part of writing; all writer’s must deal with it. Now I can say I have something in common with the best writers. My new line at the next cocktail party will be, “Stephen King? Oh, Stephen and I go way back! We’ve been best buds ever since that case of writer’s block.”
Excuse me now as I go scream into my pillow.