The Difficulty

Oh, the difficulty of writing for others. Staring at empty pages wishing this was one of those times that your brain was a waterfall of words just poring onto those white blank pages. But it never is. Yes, I do have something to say! No, I do not know what it is! Oh, but they tell me I can write whatever I want…I still have choices that they’ve laid out for me. Still not the thing I want to talk about though. No, I suppose it never will be what I want to talk about.

It seems that that’s how life works: you can do whatever you want, but there’s a catch! You have to have experience, a degree, or anything else that you don’t have! Seems fair…right? No. But, I digress.

That waterfall of spilling words onto a page never seems to come to an end when I don’t have to write for others. It’s like the waterfall that makes a river, and the river heads down stream into the ocean. Someone’s let the flood gates open and words are still coming out! Everyone run or you’ll get run over by the floods! But when someone wants you to write: nothing. Nothing comes to mind. You know you have thoughts up there. You know you feel a certain way you feel about a topic, but inside your head is a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off running around. You cannot write, because nothing stands still. Time is of the essence when writing though, so you have to try to let those flood gates open and just hope for the best. Or just fail. That’s an option too. Maybe not a good one, but an option none the less.

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