So, I’m a little blocked.
I woke up this morning and thought,
“Wow, it’s the weekend, after I go to the kitchen for my morning glass of ambition, I’m gonna write, and be deep and stuff.”
‘cept it doesn’t always work that way. The easy thing, of course, is to blame an outside source,
“My muse isn’t home.”
“The world just isn’t ready for what I have to say.”
“It’s really hard coming up with something to satiate the rule of 3’s.”
All that, and maybe you’re right, maybe you can’t control that in this minuscule window of time you’ve cut out for yourself this weekend to actually get something done the words just aren’t flowing. You can’t process to your processor.
But you know something? You should probably just write anyway.
It’s going to suck, and I mean it’s REALLY going to suck, like 50 Shades Of The Last Two Matrix Movies suck, but what else are you doing? Any word you put down is a word you didn’t have a second ago, just let yourself be bad, let that funk fill the room as you sludge pure S*** from your keyboard. Let’s be horrible haggard little things, let’s finish sentences with prepositions and bad ideas, let’s take leaps, and fall face first in stormy nights and the worst of times. Let’s write.