Writer’s Block


​Writer’s block.

When it comes, it comes from nowhere, and leads to nowhere.

It comes in so many forms that sometimes it’s hard at first to recognize. Is it writer’s block or do I just need a cup of tea? Have I been out of the house too many times? Do I need to stay home for a change? But home is so distracting.

Then there’s the writer’s block that’s literally a brick wall. Okay, not literally a brick wall, but it is a barrier to any and all writing.

There’s the writer’s block that needs a stream of consciousness jump start that turns into questioning whether your stream of consciousness is on drugs. That comes out sounding like June is too hot. Except when it’s not.


And then there’s the writer’s block that bonks your confidence on the head with a sock full of pennies. The right words don’t come and the wrong words come too fast. There’s too many feelings to put into words, but when words are your thing what are you supposed to do?

Well, it’s been about five days, and I’m still not sure.

But there’s this.

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