From the Garret: Archives

The Affliction-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named

Yes, I'm afraid to say it because it's such a scary thing for a writer to confess to but I have…ergh…mutter…mumble…(whispering) writer's block. I've never had it before and I hope to heaven I never have it again. It's awful.

It's not that I can't type. After all, I'm writing this column. The problem is: I have nothing to say. My mind is a terrifying blank. When I sit down at the keyboard, nothing comes.

Usually I'm fluent at the keyboard, brimming over with pithy sayings, deep thoughts, and striking metaphors. Maybe that's a slight exaggeration but I've never before tried to listen to my Muse and heard nothing but white noise.

I've re-read all the articles I've saved on the subject of (whispering) writer's block. Naturally I felt very smug as I read them the first time since I'd never experienced this terrible state. However, I have a healthy respect for the God of Jinxes (whoever he or she might be) so I kept the articles just in case. They aren't helping.

Nothing Nora Roberts says about not being able to fix blank pages is working for me. Nothing April Kihlstrom says about writers solving their problems by just going ahead and writing is bringing forth ideas from my brain. All those little tricks like writing about anything you want to or whipping off a one paragraph description of a cardinal in a pine tree is drawing words from my fingertips. Argh!!!!

So there my computer sits, covered in cobwebs, waiting for me to drag my Muse back from whatever tropical island she's gone on vacation to (not that I blame her since it's pretty darn cold here today). If she has a tan I'm going to be really ticked off.