I still had Writer’s Block just prior to Thanksgiving. I read several articles about Writer’s Block and learned that nobody knows why it happens, that there is no known cure and that it happens to most writers during their writing lifetime.

I read the responses from the ICWP list and what disturbed me were the number of people who talked about how many ideas they had and how swiftly they arrived. Pam said “Do any of you just wish that your mind would STOP? I have so many ideas rumbling through my head at times.” Shirley said, “I have ideas coming at me all the time.” Robin said, “When don’t ideas insert themselves? They come too often and from too many places and at too many times to list.” Sandra de said, “One time I was walking across the street and I was hit by an idea in the middle of the crosswalk and stopped dead in the middle of the street.”

Without an idea, I spent my time trying not to worry and not to obsess about not writing and that took up a lot of time, of course: the trying not to worry.

I tried taking a break and doing something entirely different. I looked forward to Thanksgiving which would let me to just that. I spent Thanksgiving dinner with my family and about a dozen people whom I’d never met before. I listened to conversations about how to grow macadamia trees and how to teach yourself to play piano. I learned about chicken tractors, Henry Ford and Thomas Edison, the Jacobson gland, and the mating habits of elephants.

During dessert, while I was listening to talk about folk art in Oregon, I had a glimpse of an idea. Then in the car, during the long trip home, I had another, and then another. I was shocked and not quite sure they were real. I don’t know if any are or if they will stay with me but at least I have something to noodle around with for a while.

The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there,
written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

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