Are You Writing?
But that is really no excuse. The solution to writer’s block is to just apply your fingers to the keyboard or the smooth, black pen and write.
Who cares if it’s crappy.
You just have to write.
He has the leisurely morning to write – not like some folk who rise early and scurry off to work after a shower, a cup of coffee, and a few minutes of shuffling papers in a fake leather bag. Not like some folk who run down the hill to catch the bus, hoping against hope they haven’t dawdled too long over their cereal, their coattails flying behind them and their bags bumping their hips and thighs as they run, run to the corner only to see the bus pull up at the stop, pause, and then lumber off as they wave at it, watching its rear round the corner and turn out of sight.
He rises later in the morning, long past the time the sun creeps up over the dark edges of the horizon, pinking up the sky. He waits until the sun has filled the room completely and illuminates the faint lines around his eyes. Then he wakes, makes coffee, brushes his teeth. Dallies over the morning paper, listens to some jazz, lets out the cat, ponders the stock market report (even though he has no portfolio) and wonders why, later in the afternoon, he has not written.
If this continues, the muse thinks to herself, she will punish him quite severely for this transgression. But for now, she picks up the phone to call him and ask
“Are you writing?”