I hate it- HATE to admit I may ( from time to time ) suffer from Writer’s Block.
I’d rather tell you how much I weigh, or what it was like to have flowers delivered to my house for Valentine’s Day and when I read the card found out that they were delivered to the wrong house…of course that was after I took pictures of them and posted them on line.
So yeah, admitting that I upon occasion can’t whip up a story or poem is an ego cruncher for me.
This year I had a built in excuse for not being ‘creative’ how could I top the horror show that is life in the USA right now?
A Plague, a Sociopath as President, I moved to a town where you can’t get Gelato and the cultural center is a Walmart.
My Muse sits in a tree watching Murder Hornets build a hive and won’t share the details with me.
But then I remember this quote:
Maybe I need to fess up and say, sure I suffer from Writer’s Block like everybody else and when I do all I have to do is go out there and look for those Murder Hornets, do more then give the Hairy Eyeball to that jerk who sits across from me on the train and takes his mask off while he reads his bible, then prays- coughing and snorting the entire time because as he’s explained to me ” It’s a sin to hide from God . “
Where are you when I need you?
I guess I’ll need to write about it.
Buh Bye Writer’s Block.