However, I am sitting at my keyboard, pounding out this post. I'm not going to say anything particularly smart or earth-shattering. I don't really believe in writer's block. I can always write something, even if it's not very interesting. I know this post is not going to be interesting. It's going to be simply done. I will have composed one or two paragraphs about absolutely nothing.
That's the hard part of being a writer. It's work. Even if you don't feel like doing it, you do it. You can't wait for inspiration to strike. If I waited for inspiration, I would write about five posts a year, and approximately half a poem. Instead, I sit here, typing away, not saying anything.
That's what real writing is about. That's what real writers do. They write and write and write, and, hopefully, something good appears. Realistically, nothing good will appear today. Instead, I'll just sound whiny and uninspired.
That's what Saint Marty has for hid disciples today: a whole lot of zilch, with a little whine on the side.
|Waiting for the panic to set in|