Honestly, I don’t want to hear it. LaLaLaLaLaaaah.
After seven years of sitting down at my keyboard, I have writer’s block. Yea!
For once, I have exactly nothing to say, and I know precisely how to do it. It could be a result of reading one too many craft books. It might be the result of putting myself in my readers’ shoes and recognizing that I’m an untrustworthy narrator. It might even be from reading one too many times that writing is all about making decisions, lots and lots of decisions.
I fancy myself competent at photography, and then I happen upon the work of Francesca Woodman. Normally, a digression would be in order. Not today.
Writing on the other hand, with all the decisions, and a whole world created from these symbols that represent sounds that we make for each other to communicate things we can’t just show another person, feels different.
Writer’s block is a vacation.
I’ll be back, and I promise I’ll take you somewhere.