Tag Archives: Writer’s block

Saturday morning muse

First Saturday morning of the school year, basking in the togetherness and at-homeness of it all.

There’s much to be done today – in fact it’s one of those days where there’s a huge Lazy Susan of ideas, opportunities and necessities spinning in my head, and I can’t quite bring myself to stop it and pick the one thing to be done next.

One thing’s certain, that I’m continually haunted and pursued by the need to dedicate time and effort to a writing practice.  I find myself wishing for foul weather, which would force downward my available options and I could feel good about retreating to the new office I’m creating downstairs.  I tell myself we need to follow through on plans to create living-room space in the adjoining big room downstairs so I can still be near the ladies while I pound away at this new lifestyle.  Wait, I know! – I need a whiteboard in that office so I can really get going, mind-mapping stuff, plotting and planning.

“Just shut up and write”, they tell me, so I turn and tell that to myself.

OK – right after I work on this bike.

Old school roadie on the stand – extreme makeover Saturday


An evening on the writer’s block

Down on the writer’s block, there was a character living out the summer in a second floor studio.

2nd floor studio, writer’s block

His neighbor next door had the one-bedroom apartment, equipped with a window air unit.  He knew this from observation of the building from the street, but had taken care to avoid any interaction with his neighbor.  His studio had just the single window and no air.  The second floor drew the spent, stale, warm air from the antique furniture shop below. Some of it passed through when he opened the window, smelling of dust and old homes, but he never felt perceptible flow or fresh air without putting his head outside.  He’d lain awake many nights that hot summer, listening to the window unit kick on to cool the bedroom in the apartment next door.  It was hot again tonight, but the summer had been dry, so bugs weren’t a problem. The noises from the park across the way helped him remember what drove him here and what he needed to resolve before moving on.

Refocusing from the park, down on the street below he noticed a tourist with a camera.  The tourist took aim at his building for a few seconds, looked at the LCD on the back of his camera, and aimed again. He moved urgently, deftly back into the shadows to avoid being exposed to his lens.   The tourist checked his LCD a second time, and then wandered with some dim purpose toward the park – apparently another shiftless amateur photographer trying out his new toy.

Nevertheless, he hoped he hadn’t been spotted in the window.