Writing til my fingers cramp

It’s a balmy eighty degrees beneath a mostly cloudy sky here.  Off from work today, and can’t seem to keep my thoughts still…so, I figured I would just write until I became morosely bored enough to wander out the door…

My new writing project is coming along fairly well.  Most of the first part is sorted out and finished (only in my head, of course)…But I just can’t work up enough enthusiasm to keep steam-rolling through…Feels like something is missing…

My hunger to paint a new portrait of love seems disturbingly satiated…and when a writer doesn’t have the urge to write…well, I guess that means there’s a blank spot swimming around in my soul…

Like I’m playing the waiting game with myself…who’s gonna quit first…me or me…

Tick tock, around the clock…Where’s that divine spark I’m searching for…


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