Writer’s block: (n) When it feels like someone wedged a few balls of cotton in between the wrinkles of your brain so that any thoughts that actually happen to break through the stringy spiderweb-like obstructions are muffled and slightly confused (just like this sentence). See also: torture.
I’m currently smack dab in the middle (OK, more like at the end) of a mind-sucking freelance project. My clicking finger is in copy-paste-delete copywriting/editing hell, my house is in shambles, and my husband and children are feeling a wee bit neglected.
I feel like I can only communicate in bite-sized, ellipses-filled book review quotes.
How is dinner?
“Delicious… A pleasurable joy ride through the senses… Highly recommended.”
Do you like my picture, mommy?
“Outstanding! The use of color is a testament to [her] skill and vivid imagination… An artist to watch!”
Did the baby finally poop?
“A valiant effort!”
Fingers are crossed that when my deadline is met, my house is cleaned, and my family gets a little love, my brain will return to normal and I won’t sit in front of my computer with a blank look on my face, exhausting all options of social media stalking before banging my head against the table in frustration.
One thing is for sure though. If I do anything right, it’s writer’s block. I am a champ!