On the left, we have the frantic attempts of a writer-in-training to overcome the writer’s block that has overwhelmed her at the one point in her fledgling career in which productivity is imperative (unfortunately, she is not simultaneously experiencing a “melodrama block”).
I have two crucial writing deadlines in the next two days. I’m stuck.
The weapons I have accrued to fight this block:
1 sweatshirt, the better to keep out Columbia’s intense heat and humidity.
1 pair of brown heels, the better to become depressed that I am not currently out dancing. Never mind that the first and last time I went out dancing was in 2007.
3 drinks. Must. Stay. Hydrated.
1 purse, with wallet conveniently displayed to remind me why I need to be working.
1 box crayons. Best purchase I’ve made all year. And that includes my education.
1 Bible, NASB translation, no less. What can I say? I reek of holiness.
1 cell phone, silenced and face down.
1 pair of headphones.
1 audio recorder, on which I have 2 hours of book material.
1 inexplicable stapler.
5 highlighters of various colors, the better to keep me organized when I figure out how they can possibly be utilized. I know I’ll find a way. I know it.
1 black pen for writing.
1 red pen for editing.
1 blue pen with which to pull back my hair when I hit a creative frenzy.
1 planner, the better to stress myself out over the massive list of errands I’ve made over the last few days.
1 purple folder packed with writing ideas from years ago, current manuscripts, writing ideas, and plenty of fresh lined paper.
I’ve got everything but the ideas. Which, as it turns out, means I’ve got pretty much nothing.