Writer’s Block

I tend not to prescribe to the notion of writer’s block but rather let myself be uninspired.  I admit tonight is one of those times, but nonetheless, here I am, writing for the sake of it.  staring at a blank page is daunting sometimes.  What to put down.  What to omit.  What am I going to actually say with this.  All things I ponder about when the mood doesn’t strike.

But now that I have made a plan for myself, it is hard not to write.  It may be bland, boring and at times, obtuse beyond any common sense – but it’s still written down.  That act alone is the hardest I find.  Sorting through one’s thoughts and ideas to scribe something intelligent and full of substance enough to be taken in en masse.  I wish my own work could get there, but it’ll have to wait until the muse stops by and gives me one hell of a kiss.  So until those moments of pure inspiration, I, along with everyone who reads my  work, will have to deal.

I can say this however.  This act of stringing letters & words together to form paragraphs of thought into readable material is divine.

I love writing.

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