Last night was a little frustrating. Sometimes I want to write but I don’t know what. It’s been almost a year since I’ve written anything new (my series of short stories are still on this blog if you’re bored and want to do some digging) and I wanted to put something new on paper.
So I got out my pad and my favorite pen and just stared at the blank page and nothing came. I started to doodle and it made me think about someone telling me about this guy who had an art exhibit based solely on doodles and I wondered how good my doodles would have to be to get an exhibit of my own and then I got mad that I had been doodling this really elaborate doodle but had nothing–nada–to write.
So I just fell asleep.
This morning the itch is still there but I can’t figure out how to scratch it.