In the Shoes of a Writer

(and still the inspiration didn’t come)

I sat down at my ‘puter to write my story to read to you today, I dillied and I dallied, I hummed and I then I hared, but the inspiration didn’t come.

Carmel wrote a poem on “Computering” which covered my situation well ‘cos I wasn’t gettin’ very far. The Newsletter joke about the virus “Housework” in reverse even played a part.

I checked out the clubs website and printed out the newsletter, I read every page on the website and the subsidiary sites as well. I read my email and the newspaper, sewed a button on my shirt, made a cup of coffee, and still the inspiration didn’t come.

I washed the breakfast dishes and went and made the bed, I visited the toilet to see if it was still there, but still the inspiration didn’t come.

I gazed out the window at the lovely day outside, took a walk and patted the dogs and laughed at their antics, and still the inspiration didn’t come.

"We'll all be rooned," said Hanrahan – well that’s the way I felt. The screen stared back at me with the little curser flashing – just waiting for me to pound the keyboard and write something! Anything! But still the inspiration didn’t come.

A writers block that’s what I’ve got, maybe it’s very serious, I’d better see the doc!

Stop this silly wandering of the mind and concentrate on the task at hand – “bugger”! The email messenger keeps flashing up new emails and distracting my attention. I could close it but then something important might come up that I should see (like I’ve won the lottery). And still the inspiration didn’t come.

This is a bit like Facebook or Twitter with me “tweeting” about every time I farted.

My God! It’s 11:45 and time for lunch if I’m to eat before I go to Writerpals. So much for being a writer! Oh well! Maybe another day.