It was inevitable, I guess.
There always comes a time when, despite having committed to regular writing, you hit a wall. Sure, there’s things that happened during the day that you could write about – progress at work, or not – but nobody wants to read the whining of someone who can’t think of anything to write.
And so, here we are. Yet – part of the practice, the discipline, the thing I’ve failed to do in the past, is to push on, despite the block, and write anyway.
Usually, of course, this would be something I’d write just for myself, rather than something to blog about, but I’m putting it out there anyway. And I remember the note I saved to my scrapbook, five and a bit years ago – that even decent writers get the block, and that it’s OK.
So, farewell to today’s writing. This is me, showing up at the keyboard. Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got to go back to the curious case of the front door that seems to be too heavy for its’ frame, and is literally dropping off the wall, inch by inch. Imagine the whole house, slowly twisting in on itself, whilst we’re all trapped, working from home. Poetic, really.
Attack the block, and you’ll get through to something better. Until tomorrow, then…