It’s the scourge of professional and hobby writers alike. I know, you’re thinking, “Writer’s block on your THIRD post of this so-called blog?! Pathetic.” The truth is I have plenty of topics on which to write humorous bloggy snippets. Some initial topics that were up for examination: the poop I just wiped from my son’s forehead, my humiliating meeting with a literary agent and my gender-confused turtles that I am resigned to take with me to a nursing home sixty years from now.
The problem is that I want to write something of substance. You see, my writers group meets on Thursday and I don’t have anything for them yet. I just participated in a writer’s conference that should have stoked a fire in me hot enough to cremate a horse but I have NOTHING. My mind is full of cobwebs, cough medicine and the shrieks of my son who moonlights as a pterodactyl.
My submissions to this writers group have been sporadic at best. I have used Roper as an excuse in every way possible and I think he’s starting to resent that fact. He actually signed “I am not your scapegoat,” to me the other morning. That or he was trying to scratch his nose with his left shoulder blade. I don’t know, my sign language skills aren’t that great.
The point is that I would like to bring something fabulous to my next writers group meeting. An essay or short story that draws them in with edible words and tantalizing twists. Woah, I just thought of a chocolate covered pretzel when I wrote that. Mmmmm… CONCENTRATE WOMAN!! Anyway, tantalizing and edible — you can see why Forehead Poop won’t work in this situation, right? Hence, my case of writer’s block.