Needing to rest and wanting to be out in the fresh air, having things to do and no energy to tackle them, longing to find the story and facing a wall of uncertainty instead.

That person in the photo, that’s me. Stuck with a capital S.

I’m told to listen to my body but if I ever do, I end up sitting in the stale air of my living room feeling downright unfulfilled. The other advice is to just get out there and see what happens. Tried that one. It either ends in tears, or sometimes, a feeling of satisfaction. The gamble is you never know which outcome you’ll get.

My writing has been like that wall in the picture. For months. The horrible thing: I’ve created these characters and I feel like I owe them a plot, I just can’t seem to pin one down.

So what to do? Here’s where I become accountable to you, readers…

I will walk to the park and do my lamp-post to lamp-post stagger home. I will sit with my writing for as long as it takes. I will apply that magic combination of determination and wild hope and see what happens.

What are you stuck with? Is it bringing you down?

Why don’t you join me in my crazy combination of true grit and see if we can’t make something great out of this hideous state?

There might even be a door through somewhere…