After much careful planning I arrive at the coffee shop. It is late afternoon, so I'm not being smothered by a heavy blanket of carbs, the hint of late afternoon curious hustle bustle is in the air, and yet a sense of urgency presides at this time of day, as though it's now or never.
The hot drink is selected, the last couple of phone calls made and the table by the outlet secured. Almost ready, just need to decide whether to use pen and paper or technology, both are lying before me. I decide on the technology of course, it's much faster. And now, I am ready to create!
The conditions are perfect, I've been dreaming of this day for years. I'm a writer! No, I haven't actually written anything yet, but here I sit, a writer, ready to write. But now, what to write. Suddenly all those ideas that I'm constantly having like gusts of wind I believe at the time would make a great short story or essay are gone, poof, vanished and my mind is a complete blank. The inspiration is gone, my brain has become a bucket of cement. How can this be? I never dreamed I'd have nothing to say, but here I sit, staring at a blank screen, not even able to type one word. I sit this way for four hours, completely frozen.
I'm hungry, I can't imagine anything improving. I write a word at least, another word. I need to write something before leaving. Managing to finally quickly write two lines, I close the computer and pack it all up. On the drive home I exult. Yes, indeed, I am a writer. I did it, I wrote.
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