I’m staring at a blank screen…because the words have been just a little absent these days.
It’s not the end of the world, and I know that, but I’ve also been dealing with this little syndrome called writer’s block a little too often lately.
Except mine is more like an impenetrable brick wall, six feet thick. π
For days…weeks, even…I’ve had to remind myself of a lot of things.
This happens to all writers…there are just days when the words don’t come and there’s not a whole lot that can be done about it.
I just need to keep writing. Because writers…well, that’s what they do.
It’s not the end of the world…and it’s really not. If I don’t write today…or tomorrow, life will go on.
It will.
Sunday was a day. Yes, it was. Thankfully we had gone to church the night before, but Sunday morning. Oh, Sunday morning…or, really, Sunday-all-day.
I was in a mood. (I STILL feel sorry for my husband, and I’m pretty sure he’s way past it all…)
I was still sick. I had something that needed to be written that day. I’d been up a lot of the night with my girl, who was having a sleepless-and-sniffly night. And I had planned to stay home from Bible class so I could get that writing done.
And, oh.
Hubby and Mae left for Bible class/Sunday school. I poured a cup of coffee, read my Bible a little, and sat down to write. Nothing.
And so I went outside and shoveled the sidewalk…I was sure that would give me JUST the time I needed to think about what to write. Um, yep. All I thought about was how cold I was and how this probably wasn’t exactly what one who is getting over being sick should be doing. π
Come inside, more coffee, sit down. Write a paragraph, delete. Write two paragraphs, delete.
Turn on the Olympics. (Oh, yes I did.) Get lost in the world of something-skiing. (At least I think it was skiing. All of these Olympic events and days are starting to run together.) π
Try writing a little more. Still nothing.
T and Mae come home. “Did you get anything written?” He knows about this writer’s, impenetrable-six-foot-wall-thick, thing.
No. (I also might have cried here, just a little.)
Repeat above cycle about four times. (Well, minus the shoveling part.) π
The words just wouldn’t come, and it felt like…I don’t even know what it felt like. But it wasn’t good.
Around Mae’s bedtime, I finally had a little direction with it. I thanked my husband profusely for doing bedtime, and I practically flew down the stairs to my laptop.
Written in 20 minutes. Cue happy dance. π
I almost shake my head even now. Is this what being a writer is like?
π
The truth is that there are things that happen in our days. Some are a lot worse than others…and writer’s wall, or whatever we’re calling it here today? Definitely not up there with world-ending, at least most days. π
Sometimes our days don’t turn out like we wish they would. I let myself struggle through them when all I need is the reminder that His mercies are new every morning.
Every morning. As in, Every. Single. Morning.
Because of the Lordβs great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23 (NIV)
No matter what you’re facing…no matter what happens…you have the promise of His mercy and His faithfulness in each day.
I think I’ll go make some coffee and watch some Olympics to celebrate…just as soon as I push the publish button.
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I love my sweet friend, Holley‘s, new link-up! Her Coffee For Your Heart: 2014 Encouragement Challenge is just what it sounds like. Think of Wednesdays as that day where I just share some encouragement…and you can pretend that we’re sitting at a table over coffee, just sharing life. Sounds like a great way to spend Wednesdays in this space. I hope you’ll hop over and join us!