Writer’s Block

 

I’d been having a miserable writer’s block.

Nothing seemed to help.

I sang, I danced, I walked around the block, I called my sister. Nada.

Then I set the alarm for 4:45 am and changed where I wrote. Instead of at my regular desk I cleaned out a vacant studio and set up a temporary table for my laptop.

I banished the cat.

I turned off my radio. I opened a patio door and watched the sunshine on the red rocks. And listened to the early morning quail and blue jays chattering in the apricot tree.

And I waited.

Got up and did some stretches. Sat down again. Nothing.

Turned off the Internet. Listened to the painted towhee in the Russian sage.

Watched a rabbit getting a drink of water.

Observed a lizard skittering across the summer-hot rocks.

And listened.

And was patient.

And finally the words started to flow.

Ah, home, at last!