Rambling discombobulated words scrawl across endless notebook pages. The obnoxious clicking of keys as I begin then delete and begin then delete…it’s like banging my head against a brick wall. The wall stacks up, brick by brick building on my frustration. The words clang like broken machinery.
Characters fall flat. Settings disappear into fog. Plots run in circles. The clinking and clanking of unoiled words screeches louder.
I rifle through articles and pull out creative prompts trying to dredge up something salvageable. But there is no cure more effective than time. Time to fall in love again. Time to wrap up in the loving arms of a story idea. Time to drink in the character’s words. Time to seduce the reader. Time to create a love that lasts far beyond the last page. A love that lasts past the end of the parchment. A love as eternal as the printed words.