I am blocked.
I have been for a few weeks. I’m still writing, but it’s not coming easily. It’s like that old method of execution where they pull out the entrails and burn them in front of the owner…only it’s worse because it’s happening to me. I always worry that maybe it’s because my mind is going but then I realize that worrying about my mind going is a pretty good indicator that my mind ISN’T going; but then, I realize that, if my mind WAS going, that’s exactly the kind of a lie that I’d tell myself. I’ve been working with my mind for decades… too long NOT to give it at least partial credit for my successes. If I was getting an award for my life’s work, I would DEFINITELY have my mind stand up so that he could get a round of applause… I might even invite my mind to the stage… Of course if I let my mind say a few words, people might realize that I’m nothing without him. They’d say, “Sure, he’s lived quite a life; but, without his mind, I doubt he’d have accomplished anything”. I’m not about the give my mind full credit, though. Plenty of times I’ve acted without thinking and it’s turned out great. Sex is a good example. That’s the great thing about sex: You can turn that ol’ mind off completely and just coast. When your mind gets back, it gets to worry about everything associated with the sex. My biggest worry is that my partner and I will hit heads and her nose will start bleeding and it will turn out that she was a hemophiliac and my sheets will be ruined and SHE MIGHT EVEN DIE!!! I only have ONE other set of fitted sheets and I really don’t want to have to get another; but, you can’t have nose blood stains on a bed sheet without someone noticing… really, blood stains anywhere in the bedroom of someone you are going to have to be unconscious next to is pretty unnerving. But, on the sheets, you can FEEL the blood stains and imagine the screams of whoever bled there before you, so you lay awake in the dark and wait for the figure in the bed next to you to silently get up and check to see if YOU’RE sleeping. He never moves, except once to go to the bathroom and once to take a swig from a half-finished Dr. Pepper that he left on the floor. By the time you are comfortable and no longer terrified of dying, you start to go to sleep but he shakes you awake which isn’t odd because everyone shakes people awake but then you realize that you’d HAVE to shake someone because anything else you might do to them would take up more room than just the surface of the mattress. I suppose you could brush or comb someone awake if you had to… but as your mate became bald he would be harder and harder to wake up with just a comb. Late for whatever work he did, he would start losing a series of jobs until he’ll get so depressed, he will spend all day on that bloodstained mattress, drinking warm Dr. Pepper. He would start writing, after all other avenues of supporting himself have been exhausted. His “voice” will be one that Americans can relate to and he will become very very popular, almost overnight. And, it will seem as if he can do no wrong… his life will be set, his fortune made…
And, then he’ll get writer’s block…
Just write Charles. Write crap but just write because somewhere in all that crap is the next idea that will get you excited and make you want to write again. That or buy a cat.
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I think what I wrote today was crap, Deb…
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I actually enjoyed it Charles. That’s the thing about writing, you never know what someone else will see in it. Each response is different.
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Thanks, Deb.
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What she said. I’ve discovered that the solution to 99% of writing problems is to write.
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BUT IT HURTS!!!!
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I have writer’s block. I think I have a life block too. I am tired of the song that keeps playing over and over again on the radio but I can’t change it. Which leads to me trying to stomp out my “groundhog’s day” tendency to write about the same thing all the time. I guess I want a new DJ. Then maybe I can write a new tune. Or any tune at this point.
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Yeah! I keep trying to come up with topics while I’m stuck here and all I come up with are “Why I Love my Recliner” and “Stuff I Want to Eat this Afternoon”…
I’ve noticed your output has slowed, Robyn. But, if anyone has an excuse, it is you…
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Check Amazon. I’m sure they have writer’s constipation medicine available for next day shippping.
😉
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If that existed, you’d have already put it into one of your “Products” posts…
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All in good time. …
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The is classic James Joyce flow of consciousness. Beautiful!
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Joyce is one of my three favorites, George…
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Lucky guess on my part…or was it the cosmic consciousness?
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I mention him a lot but let’s go with “cosmic consciousness”…
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By the way, do you have another account under the name of Deb Whitman? It seems as soon as you post, she shows up first. How does that happen, unless you do it yourself to encourage yourself?
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Deb’s Australian, so she’s at the end of her day when I post. She was probably the first blogger I followed and I think of her pretty fondly…
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Okay. Not an alter ego.
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Everyone is struggling in one way or another right now. Wish I could offer some inspiration, but I’m also pretty uninspired. ☹️
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I’ve been working from home since March and I’m starting to look like Howard Hughes…
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I’ve been working from home since March too—and our law firm just announced that they were extending the remote work mandate until AT LEAST July 1, 2021.
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Also, I don’t resemble Howard Hughes in the least…
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I hate to be the guy that tops the previous statement, but I contract to the U. S. Census and they told us that contractors will be working from home for the next two years at least as they combine buildings…
I may never see another human as long as I live…
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The best snowball I’ve read all week!
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Arigato Gozaimasu…
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🙏
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