Some days the words won’t come. They cling to the back of the mind like the vestiges of a ketchup bottle. They tangle up like headphones at the bottom of a bag. They resist like a timid cat cowering under a bed.
Some days the words seem to disappear. Like birds you hear but never see, they remain hidden in the branches of your mental tree. They shape shift like clouds. They fade like a dream. They’re impossible to tame and as hard to hold as steam.
Sometimes writer’s block is a large boulder on your path. Other times it’s a dry well, an empty cupboard, or a party no one else attends.
Some days your mind feels as static as a stale pen. You search your nooks and crannies and find your creative stores barren.
Sometimes writing is like holding water in your hands or building with dry sand. The words won’t come; they won’t take shape. Every idea is a mirage. The page remains empty.
What’s a writer to do when the words won’t obey? When the ideas tarry an infinite distance away? Sit very still in front of that blank screen or page. Resolve to face it day after day after day. If you persist—if you never give up—the words will emerge from their hiding spots.