Writing blocks are so incredibly annoying. They are like a cage, just holding you back from the beautiful sunshine you want to bask in, the luscious, fragrant flowers of endless vibrant colors. The magnificent oak trees, standing tall, proud, and firm to show off there beautiful green leaves of summer, which are begging to give you their sweet, fresh oxygen. The sparkling blue river ready to give you his refreshing cool water. The lattice on this cage is intertwined on all sides, making it seem utterly impossible to escape. But, as you spend more and more time in this torturous cage, the key to the lock begins to come into view, until it is right in the palm of your hand. There is hope, I'm just still trapped inside that horrible cage, waiting desperately for that key.
22 December 2008
So here I am, sitting at my computer, at 5:30 in the morning. There is something wondrous and important to be written. Something everyone needs to read. Something enjoyable, magical, with fantastic imagery and marvelous descriptive words. Words that would brighten every one's day, help those in need, lighten up the sad, inspire someone to go out and serve. But instead, here I am, frozen solid at my desk, because I do not consist of the simplest of an idea of what those words are. This is what I call a writing block.