Not Writing

It’s OK not to have anything to write about. But if you want to call yourself a writer, you kind of have to write. So, even if you have no idea what to put on that page, just sit down and write the first things that come to mind.

You could write about how busy things are. About how life keeps “getting in the way” of your writing. You could talk about all of the scribbles of ideas you would love to expand on but don’t quite have it together enough yet to do so. Because, for many of us, developing ideas takes quiet spaces and empty schedules and those are hard to come by right now.

You could write about how much more interested in reading you are than writing. About how that reading, even though brief, further keeps you from expressing your thoughts. Because you feel you just can’t measure up. But even this is an opportunity to explore those feelings with words. Just simply force yourself to sit down and start typing.

Because, ultimately, it is all of these things that you experience and observe, from the most exciting, to the most philosophical, to the most mundane, that are your potential subjects. Life, is your muse. Look around you.

Those wooden boxes. Made of bamboo. Chosen not just because they fit those impossible cubby holes in the hutch of your desk, but also because the soothing blond tones juxtapose nicely with the cherry wood desk. That desk that you knew you must have when you saw it but was gone at the original location by the time you actually decided to buy it. The one that caused you to then drive to seven other locations before finally finding the last two. Both of which you bought. On sale.

These little small coups that make you happy just by remembering them are perfect fodder for when you need to get the fingers warmed up to type.

See, there’s plenty to write about. Plenty you have to say. Even about nothing at all. Even if it’s writing about not writing.

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