So…I have a question for all you writerly types out there:
Why is writing so hard?

Sure, sometimes it is easy. Sometimes, we have days like yesterday, when I sat down and wrote two complete scenes, both of which just flowed onto the page and were done. Just like that. Even John did not have any complaints with them. He even wrote “Good!” in the corner.

But then, there are days like today: my mind is a blank.

I sit here, regarding the enemy, a.k.a. THE BLANK PAGE.

It stares back.
We regard each other. We take stock of each other’s mettle.

I go check my email.

Nothing. I look at the page again. Still nothing.

I go check my friend’s list. Maybe there is something interesting there? I read a couple of posts by friends. I smile. I frown a bit or am sad with them. Occasionally, I post a note so that they know I was there.
Back to the page. What do you know? It’s still blank. I had so hoped it would fill itself in while I was gone.

I check Facebook. (This shows real desperation. I almost always forget about Facebook.)

I check back again. Still blank.

Hmm.

I get up and walk around the room. I check the temperature (101 degrees outside. Doesn’t matter what I do to the thermostat, it’s going to be miserable in here, too.) I feed the rabbit, even though this means going outside to get hay. I feed the cat, too.

A child interrupts me. I tell them to get their own drink because I’m busy writing. Then, I sigh and go get a drink, cut watermelon, settle a dispute, make them go outside to look at the baby bunny in the yard, make them go outside to see the praying mantis on the steps. (I tell them it’s the one from Kung Fu Panda. When it flips sideways to avoid us, I tell them it’s doing Kung Fu.)

Funny…the page is still blank.

I open an earlier chapter. Make a few changes. Contemplate how to make the first chapter seem less like YA. Hey, look, the page count is off. I spend twenty minutes repaginating the chapters…a useless exercise, since the moment I am done, I will cut and paste the whole thing into one file and it will page itself automatically.

I note that the page I am supposed to be writing is 349.

I make a change to Chapter 29. This brings my current page to 350.

Still, strangely, there is no writing on the page. How did that happen? So much time has gone by. Surely, the page might have produces a few words. No?

Not a one.

I check my email again. Yah! Someone wrote me. I spend some time composing an answer. See! I wrote something!

Oh…wait…the page is still blank.

Finally, I swallow. Gulp. I close my eyes. I take a deep breath.
Then, I put my fingers on the keyboard and make myself write.
Some days, there is no easier way.