Well, loves, we’re about 31 days away from the end of a year, and my blog has been rather…bare for the past 7 months. So, as persuasion to write, I’m taking a page from a lovely friend’s blog and following a series of writing prompts to bring me back to my original love– creative writing. It’s boot camp for my mind and fingers.
And for my first post– a breakup letter to an imaginary friend.
Dear Writer’s Block, it’s not you, it’s me…
Really, it is. It’s laziness. It’s time-eating. It’s a wish for something more.
But there are ideas in my lovely brown head, you see. They ghost behind my eyes while I scrub my teeth white. They shadow-puppet against my bedroom walls while I try to construct my own dreams. They’re pretty fuzzy pictures of unsettling confrontations and unexpected conversations.
They beg for life, but my fingers bow down under distraction and daydreams and. do. not. type.
So, you see, Writer’s Block, you’re not really there. You don’t really exist. You’re only an excuse for my settling of things that do not make me wholly happy.
But tonight (and oh, God, let it be always), I write. Without filter, without hesitation, without absolute truth, I write.
Thanks for being the best scapegoat ever,