Staring out the window, I watch speckles of snowflakes flutter to the ground. I’m in Denver at the moment; a new environment, a different perspective. Unwisely, I hope that this will bring me inspiration.
And, in a way, it has.
As I work on a story that has been growing inside of me for weeks, I can’t help but wonder why this adventure has chosen me. Why this moment? And why at this moment is my mind failing me? Lost in the character and the inevitable fear creeping in, the memories of my past experiences remind me that they have all guided me toward this transient but volatile moment.
Every event, failure, circumstance has brought us to the being we are today, to create and act with the consumed result of these very thought-upon “accidents.” Every moment preparing us for the next, whether we had planned it or not. Every coincidence pounding us over and over until we ignore it, crumble under it or push up and struggle through it.
In short, writer’s block sucks. 
strippedcanvas
