Well, it finally happened.  I’ve been dreading it ever since I decided to put my words out there for you to read.

I knew this wasn’t going to be easy but I never thought it would be this hard.

That’s what she said.

It’s not something I’m happy to admit but suppose it’s part of the process.  So here it is, folks:

I have…writer’s blog.

I’ve got 99 ideas but a blog post ain’t one.

Seriously, my laptop’s recycle bin doesn’t even want this crap.  The irony.

Now writing isn’t something I consider to be easily done; however, it is something I typically enjoy.  As they say, when you are doing work you love, it isn’t work.  Amen.

So trust that, albeit frustrated, I’m having a blast trying to figure out what the fuck to say.

Oh yeah, I’m just L.O.V.I.N. this creative clog.  If only I could phone a plumber.  Hi, can someone snake my brain?

My mind feels like a game of Pong; my thoughts bouncing back and forth.  One moment thinking I’ve struck gold with the direction I’m heading, then, I begin to doubt it and decide it’s shit.  A few minutes later, I’m right back at square one thinking I could make it work.

It’s exhausting not finding that magical head space where words just flow right through you.  I’m pouring precious words out but they just aren’t coming together organically.

Where is my focus?  Where is my mind?

Pressure playing a large part in this battle.  I’ve committed myself to this and must get something done.  The pressure you put on yourself is your worst enemy when you aren’t able to satisfy your creative depths.  It’s debilitating.

You can not force the creative process.  When you do, you likely will be creating a much crappier version of something your ‘right mind’ed self could produce.

It seems that I’m experiencing a glitch in my system.

So what’s a girl to do in a situation like this?

Call for reinforcements? Outsource? Lobotomy?

I’ll tell you what she’s going to do:

She is going to reclaim her creativity by first accepting that this is a temporary situation.  Her creative genius will return.  Stella will get her groove back.

Next, she is going to step away from the computer and refocus by placing her mind elsewhere.  Read a book, go for a run, play with the dog; do whatever it takes to calm her thoughts.

After her head is in a good space, one where she no longer feels forced,  she’s then ready to give it another go.  She is going to write. Write whatever is on her mind.

And look what she did.

Sucker.

Thanks for reading.

“Life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously.” -Hunter S. Thompson