Writer's block.

I’m stuck. Stuck like a Toyota Prius in a Wisconsin blizzard. I’ve been trying to write this blog post, trying to and not succeeding. It’s like my brain has just decided to hit pause, leaving me staring at the blinking cursor on my screen. Right now my mind is as empty as a politician's promise, and I’m starting to wonder if I'll ever string together a coherent sentence again.

I’ve tried everything I could think of but nothing has worked. I've drunk enough coffee to kill Juan Valdez. Evidently coffee is supposed to be some magic elixir that releases the creative muse. All it’s done for me is make me go to the bathroom every 2 minutes and make me shake like a leaf on a tree. I’ve tried to embrace my inner sloth and indulge in some good old-fashioned procrastination. But I realized that I wrote about that last week. Dang. I gave into watching TikTok videos of babies with Scottish accents which is just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen but the wee little ones didn’t do a thing to get me unstuck. I rearranged my sock drawer, binge watched true crime documentaries until I was scared of my own shadow. I thought about going outside for a walk but I was too scared, thank you serial killer channel. My next idea was to get Zen and try to clear my mind. I was so out of ideas though I couldn’t even think of anything to help me clear my mind. Which sounds like it should have been perfect but the coffee wasn’t helping. I thought maybe a nice nap could help to conquer my writer’s block. You know, don’t fight it, surrender to it. Lay down and recharge the old creative batteries. Ultimately the rest was nice but I was only more frustrated because I felt like I had wasted time. This led to the scream therapy portion of my quest. I bellowed, I barked, I screamed at the top of my lungs. All that pent-up frustration was released in a visceral, primal yawp that ultimately only succeeded in giving me a sore throat. I even performed a dramatic interpretive dance of existential angst. I was the Twila Tharp of writer’s block.

So ultimately I just sat down and wrote about not being able to write. I conquered the blank page and live to see the other side. Until next week.