I’m stuck. S-T-U-C-K. Stuck. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour trying to find inspiration for a slice of life. Just a little something that would spark an idea. What I ended up with was nothing. A blank slate. An empty mind.
I know we’ve all been there. That place commonly known as writer’s block. What I normally do when this happens is mine my writer’s notebook for ideas. I’ve done that. Trust me. I’ve looked back at my heart map, perused my neighborhood map, reread my lists, and tried to find inspiration in the quotes scribbled on the pages of my writer’s notebook. But writing a ‘slice of life’ is what’s tripping me up today. I want to find something in my notebook that reminds me of something that happened today. I want my slice to connect to today. The problem with that is that nothing out of the ordinary happened. Nothing happened that I could write a whole entire slice about.
Maybe I’m putting too mush pressure on myself to write this amazing slice. Yeah, that’s probably it. I tend to do that– put too much pressure on myself to get things just right. Writing is a process, right? And part of the process is not knowing exactly what to write. So today, I’m deciding to live in that moment of uncertainty. That imperfect moment. And today, that’s OK.