Here I am once again, the eighth day in a row, staring at a blank computer screen battling with myself over what to write. I have concluded that I don’t want to write about politics or the Constitution, because I cannot deal with the massive disappointment I feel about the direction this nation continues to move due to the idiocy in Congress.
With that stated, I am kind of at a loss for material, as I am relatively uninspired at the moment. And then that isn’t even the case as I’ve a couple of fictional story idea ricocheting around in my personal think-tank, but have yet to mold a real story line for either.
Stuck. That’s a good word for what I am momentarily. Stuck.
Part of me wants to go off and find some sort of adventure to dabble in for a few days. Perhaps hike through one of the nearby valleys, climbing a remote mountain to see what lays beyond.
But two things stand in my way of this: my back and the weather. I don’t think I need to explain the problem with my back – but the weather does need some speechifying.
In Northern Nevada, we are in the yearly pattern where the sunshine that is flowing from the heaven’s can suddenly shift to a blizzard. And the further back one happens to be in this rougher country. the greater the danger of getting caught and having to hunker down for a couple of days.
Stuck. Again, it is a good word for such a situation. Stuck.
So with no inspiration and no adventure, I turn to writing a sort-of-confession about why I haven’t been writing for the last eight days. It’s very simple – I’m stuck for the moment and am nickle-and-diming about the computer keyboard trying to get turned around from a proverbial dead-end, better known to fellow scribblers as writers block.
But I prefer the more dramatic word — ‘stuck…’