Is when your fingers choke on empty ideas.
When your hair is knotted in frustrated strands
When your imagination has floated away onto a distant cloud
that you can’t quite reach because dead roots have clamped on your feet.
All you have to stare at is a blank page and a clock.
Flickering above the microwave.
Ticking away all the letters you have yet to write.
If only you could just write.
But high standards elevate your self hate,
A hate that turns and twists and tears at your self-esteem.
and every single word you pen only seems to enunciate
the fact that you can’t think of a single. Thing. To. Say.
Yes. Those are the symptoms of writers block.
The symptoms of “chronic checking the clock”.
With side effects of constant comparisons,
and hours spent waiting for an epiphany to knock,
just a flicker of inspiration into you.
These are the moments that make writing tough.
So my solution is to write until your keyboard is a magnet,
and the tips of your fingers, iron.
Until each sentence is like breathing.
Until each letter is a star filling up the pages with a sky of possibility.
Refuse to give up.
At least not over a few words.
Inspiration lurks in every nook and cranny of the mind.
Do not ever, under any circumstance, undermine a single line.
Hold on to each spark that hits you.
Because although a spark can lead to a blaze,
on a page that spark will turn into an inferno.