Writer's Constipation

 

 

I think I have writer's constipation. I know, that's a very gross way to explain it, but I've been wanting to get some writing done SO MUCH lately and it's been one thing after another keeping me from it, and then when I have a free moment ...(and I use the term "moment" to describe about a half second duration where inspiration meets an actual blank tick of the clock before some other chaotic responsibility drops in and says "fooled ya!") I try OH SO HARD to get something out-a sentence, a word, a vowel-but then it's just...stuck. All those ideas, those beautiful lines of pure poetic justice that came to me while I was cooking supper or playing peek-a-boo with my son or scrubbing the toilet: stuck. It's like all of those ideas have sat in there and gotten hard and rocky and unmoveable. I'm creatively constipated. And it feels as if I am about to burst if I don't find some form of relief. So that is why I am writing this rather disgusting analogy about writer's constipation.

...and now excuse me while I go change my son's diaper. I guess this exercise helped HIM :D