I am paralyzed.
No matter how hard I focus my brain, no matter how hard I will my fingers to type, no matter how hard I try to breathe and relax, I still feel like I've got nothing.
I am a writer, and clearly, I am blocked.
I wish there was some sort of laxative that I could take that would make the words spill from my heart. I would even consider breaking my gas station cappuccino habit in order to buy the magic pill to unlock the phrases. That's how badly I need a fix.
Instead, I try to appease myself with the fact that this happens to everyone.
All writers at some time or another become stuck and mired with their wheels spinning. All writers have to dig and fight their way out of the sand pit. And even though I know this, and more importantly that I understand this, I am not comforted.
Because when it happens to you, and you are a writer, it sucks.
I am taking my first baby steps, and it feels fabulous.
I am walking . . . even if it is only one step at a time.