where wildly different is perfectly normal
It’s just like that
It’s just like that

It’s just like that



It’s just like this.

Only the blocks are one big chunk of solid cement, I am crushed beneath it, and the boys are wrestling and jumping on top while the dog barks and farts with impunity. The pencil is out of reach, the paper is soaking wet, and the lightbulb has burnt out. My glasses have a shattered lens, the wallpaper behind me is peeling, and the desk has a bad leg so it tilts at a precarious angle. The building is on fire, a runaway train has jumped the tracks and is careening my way, and a wee little car stuffed with clowns (CAN’T SLEEP, CLOWNS WILL EAT ME…CAN’T SLEEP, CLOWNS WILL EAT ME…) has crashed into the house and is now puking red noses and large shoes all over the front lawn. A Cat 5 hurricane is bearing down, an asteroid is on a collision course with earth, and Voyager not only found signs of extra-terrestrial life, aforementioned life has taken Voyager hostage and they’re on the way here to turn us all into alien slaves before the zombie hoards eat all the brains with cocktail sauce.

Writer’s Block.

It’s just like that.


  1. QH

    I’m never sure what writer’s block actually is. I can be too overwhelmed to write, too exhausted to write, too depleted to write, but I never am stuck for wanting to write or for words. (I may fall asleep at the keyboard.) When it happens, I give myself a break–days, weeks, months depending. Maybe give yourself a month off–no writing. You may not. You are not allowed. (You can write down ideas, but that’s all.) I found that if I make myself take a month off, in two weeks I’m back to it.

    Good luck!

    In the short term? I swear by a sensory deprivation tank. It’s 90 minutes of floating on a river into infinity. (I’m claustrophobic and have no problem with it at all.) If they’re the rage here, I’m sure you’ve got tons of float places around. Between that and Xanax I am slowly regaining my sanity. 🙂

    1. Jen

      I think it’s more a case of mental constipation. The ideas are all there, my life is just conspiring to keep everything stopped up. Plus by the time I actually have a chance to sit and write, I’m so tired and/or brain dead that if I forced myself to write, it would suck and I would then be wide awake late at night. As for a break…that’s been the last year. I’ve been very gentle with myself and my total lack of decent output, but I’m kinda over it. Either I’m a writer or I’m not. Either I suck it up or I move on.
      And I don’t think a sensory deprivation tank would be good for me. I’m mildly claustrophobic and have this thing about drowning. Don’t think I’d be able to relax.

Whaddya think?

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