I had to finish listening to a song before I could start writing. Then I had to straighten out my desk. Next I wrote something on my weekly calendar — ya know, before I forgot. Thought I’d better check my email in case something new and important or interesting had come in. Since I was on the internet thought I might as well see what was trending on Twitter. Went back to email to check the status of a package on order. Next went to a message board to see if there were any reactions to my recently-posted comment. Had to go pee. Stopped at the kitchen to get my canteen out of the fridge. Determined that now I was going to commence writing. But I was staring at a blank page. Stared at it for awhile but it just stared back. Tried sighing. Didn’t help. Looked through quotes I had saved in a folder hoping to find inspiration. None was forthcoming. Thought about looking through some news sites for an idea. Decided it was better to stay the hell away from the internet. It can really suck you in. Noted that the blank page was still blank. Looked out the window. Closed the shade. Thought about seeing what the wife was up to. Looked back at the blank page. I was supposed to be taking a day off from the novel but thought maybe I could at least tinker with it a bit. Decided against it, was sticking to my plan. Thought I might write about football or sports in general. Decided not to. Thought I could write about regrets, or experiences from my youth or young adulthood. Considered writing a short story or revising a draft of one previously attempted. Noted again that the blank page was as blank as ever. Maybe more so. Considered going for a walk but remembered I’d promise the missus I’d walk with her in the late morning. Looked at the time, 8:23. Seemed early and seemed late and seemed just about right. Considered checking the weather page but remembered I’d done so less than an hour before. Doubted the forecast had changed much in fifty minutes. It occurred to me that I often had better luck with writing when I listening to particular music. But the music I was listening to was in that category. Clearly the problem was elsewhere. Worried that I’d lost it, my writing juices all used up, I’d never again create. Finally realized that was silly. But then looked at the blank page and my doubts were renewed. Found myself thinking about how ridiculous it was that college football doesn’t announce all start times for games at the start of the season but decides most twelve days before the game. I also grew angry thinking how frustrating this was for people. In line with that I internally grumbled about all the night games that were foisted upon fans. Took awhile before I could return my focus to writing. But there was just a blank page. I speculated that if I wrote anything, even gibberish it might help kick start me. After all, that blank page was intimidating. But I couldn’t even muster the energy to type nonsense. Wondered if I’d be having this problem if I could still drink coffee. It’s been five and half years off caffeine (it's not good for someone with Acute Panic Syndrome). Had to give up black tea last Spring (not conducive to someone with acid reflux). No chemical boost in the morning. Finally inspiration struck! I’d write about my difficulty writing. Chronicle my failed attempts, the distractions, the procrastination, the blank page syndrome. (Full disclosure: I just made up the term, blank page syndrome and have no idea what it means — but it sounds cool.) So I’m over 635 words in on this not being able to write stuff. The write stuff. All in one paragraph too. I suppose it goes to prove that I haven’t lost the ability to create and there’s always some damn thing or the other to write about. The question is — of course — would this be of interest to readers (he flatters himself that he has some). Well, it’s relatable. Most people have had the frustration of not being able to get started on an assignment of one sort or another. I know that for me the one thing that has always gotten me going is a deadline. That’s a problem with the blog, the only deadlines I have are self-imposed. One is more motivated when the deadlines are imposed from without, by an editor, professor, boss etc. I don’t see anywhere else to go with this. It’s been fun and I thank you if you stuck around for the entire ride. Maybe this’ll inspire to me write. Oh wait….
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