Bone dry. That’s today for me.
I’ve sat in front of my blank screen for close to an hour and I have nothing to write. It doesn’t help me feel any better knowing that it’s already 11:30pm.
I sure as hell have many thoughts, but some are not suitable for publishing as a post and others are untimely and shouldn’t be published, so they stay inside for another day.
And that is to say nothing about the mental struggle of transforming disparate thoughts into a coherent piece.
Some days, I suppose, are like that. We just don’t feel up to the task.
Sometimes it is due to stage-fright (page-fright?). The more we feel pressured to write, the scarcer the ideas.
Sometimes it’s because you can’t think coherently enough to write anything sensible. I think this is happening to me right now; I feel tired and really just want to lie in bed, not spin the cognition wheel.
Other times… well, you just write something so bad that it makes you laugh at yourself. In those cases, you might make excuses and go meta…
Also published on Medium.