WRITE, they say, JUST WRITE.
But suddenly, you’re drowning in a sea of empty thoughts. There is an anchor attached to you, that anchor is called writer’s block.
That’s my life right now, anyway. I have a hundred ideas, until I sit at my computer, tablet, pen & paper, primitive cave drawing, ect. and realize the words are trapped in the deep crevasses (or crevices, I’m not really sure what’s actually up there,) of my brain.
I become overwhelmed by the abyss of nothingness in my thought-processes, and sit there with a blank face, staring at the blank page until finally I open up an internet tab to distract myself with baby animals, DIY pallet projects, or miscellaneous quizzes with no relevance to anything of substance. It’s time to wake up and smell the Pumpkin Spice Latte’s of the cramped and crowded coffee shop I sit in on campus!
GRADUATION is t-minus one semester and two additional courses away. GRAD SCHOOL isn’t far behind that.
Grad school?! Shit. What were my top choices? Am I actually going to get accepted? WHO WILL WRITE ME A LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION?
By now, my head is spinning like a load of heavy towels in the dryer on the highest speed. I laugh nervously and pretend that my Midterm for Advanced Fiction is going well, but in reality I’m scribbling doodles of bats and spiderwebs for Halloween in my planner instead of progress notes.
It’s October. I NEED to pass my classes. That’s all I need right now. But, a Chick-fil-A just opened and that sounds more enticing than staring at a blank page.
You can do this, you can write the shit out of that midterm. You can analyze the shit out of that 17th century American Lit. assignment as though you actually read the weeks readings. You can do anything, but first, you better go grab another overpriced-venti-double-something-mocha that you probably can’t afford anyway. But tea is better for you, and it’s cheaper. Better do that. OH DEAR GOD… I’m becoming my mother…
Or, I mean, I could just write my Midterm.