…that is, if it were 2007, I still had long hair and my office was in the above food court of an airport in Mexico. (What can I say? I’m scraping the bottom of my iPhoto barrel to illustrate my larger point. Go with it.)
It was that sort of writing day when you stare at the same string of words on your computer screen until you’ve wrung them dry of meaning, when you’re not so sure you’ve got the mental capacity to tell the reader what happens next, when you’ve lost your will to describe. What’s happened? Have I officially used up all my words? Is there nothing more to say? Was this freelance writing thing a big mistake?
And then you realize it’s because you’re on day one of a juice cleanse, you cut coffee cold turkey and you’re running on nothing but fumes and cucumber juice. And then you calm down. You grab a bottle of beet juice, you open a book by one of your favorite writers to fill up the word well and you remind yourself that tomorrow is another writing day.
Dear writers: Please feel free to substitute my cleanse-induced fog for your writer’s block, my beet juice for a strong cup of coffee. But the point is, just when you’re about to beat yourself up for today’s lack of genius on the page, remind yourself that all is not lost. Tomorrow is another writing day.