I’m tired, dehydrated and have writer’s block. It’s the second week of school, we had relatives with us all weekend, and I’m Jonesin’ for a yoga class. Does anyone even say “Jonesin’?” anymore?
Or maybe it’s part two of my midlife crisis. Do you have these moments? You know, the ones where you aren’t sure what your purpose is or why do you keep trying to put the Advil away in the refrigerator? Or how come your favorite underwear is never clean? Probably because you don’t have a favorite pair and that should lead you out the door to buy some suitable for a woman in the middle of her midlife crisis. Which I won’t do because who has the time?
Time. Now that’s a funny word. Not because it sounds funny or because it tickles your tongue when you say it. It’s funny because you don’t have any of it. You can’t buy it, sell it, or make it. It’s not even real because you can’t touch it. Have you ever touched time? I haven’t. I will say it’s hit me a few times racing past at break neck speed. Time is a bit of a prankster. We have a love/hate relationship. Kind of like I did in the seventh grade with David Klein. I wonder whatever happened to him? I hope he didn’t run out of time. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.
If I drink some water and take a nap will the writer’s block go away? Once I settle in to a suitable Downward Dog will the words will rush free like rapids running down hill? Can I make my characters run, hop and skip? Will anyone read my book?
All in good time.