I didn’t write a damn thing today, until just now. I should have—I have work to do. But I’m in one of those lulls, the kind in which the mind is full but the fingers are paralyzed; I sit at the keyboard but I can’t get the words out, not on to the page, anyway, so I walk away and let them dance around in there, showing off but refusing to actually show themselves at all.
Sometimes the deadlines help. Other times, like today, not even the deadlines matter. The page stares back at me, daring me to make a move, and I can’t. I think of countless scenarios that I’m dying to get on paper: the overbearing sister and her loud, pronounced vocal tics that make people cringe. The waitress who overshares, spilling her secrets before the wine is uncorked. The elevator operator who jokes that she can go up and down without ever moving from side to side.
She’s stuck, just like me.
I’m participating in NaBloPoMo, and posting everyday in November*
*I started this on 11/25, and published a mere two minutes after midnight. I’m totally counting it.