I haven’t written a word for five days now.
Not that I’m counting.
I normally write 200 words per day.
Or at least try to.
Sometimes less. Sometimes more.
I’m fine with not writing anything.
I learned a long time ago not to be hard on myself when I wasn’t writing.
But I do prefer to be writing all the same.
When this happens to me I imagine that I am in that lovely place between words.
We are all in that place.
Sometimes not for long.
The time it takes to finish a sentence.
Or weld three sentences to form a paragraph.
Eight paragraphs to become a chapter.
Other times the time it takes for the words to begin again.
I have been in that lovely place for five days now.
I am fine with this.
I am simply waiting for that next …