Write something. Anything. It doesn’t matter what you write. Just write.
I’m taking the advice of several writing instructors when I begin typing without a direction. This writing will be flawed and will contain run on sentences, and sentence fragments. It will change tense several times and I might even forget what I’m writing about half way through. But I will be writing.
Making yourself write when you believe you have nothing much to say is almost impossible. This is how it goes.
I sit down at the computer and stare at my blank document page with my hands on the keyboard, poised for the brilliance that I just know is going to come out of my brain.
When a minute or so has passed and I haven’t typed a word, I decide that it’s time to warm up my coffee. On my way to the kitchen, I stop in the laundry room to throw in a load of towels.
Then, when I pass my son’s room, I see a glass on his nightstand so I retrieve it to put into the dishwasher. The living room is next. I see that the plant in the corner is drooping. I walk into the sunroom for the watering can and see a new spider web behind the rattan chair. So, I return to the laundry room for the broom. But instead I take the cordless stick vacuum because I know there are dust bunnies forming along the walls in the hall. I vacuum the dust bunnies and down the hall into the living room. I might as well get under the sofa while I’m at it but I lean the vacuum on the chair so I will remember to do it later.
I walk into the kitchen and I remember that I’m supposed to be writing. Why did I want to come into the kitchen? I look around to see if I can remember why I wanted to come in here.
So I go back to my office. The blank document is still blank. No story, no paragraphs, no sentences, not even a word.
And no coffee. That was it!
Now. Where in the world did I leave my mug?