I can’t think of anything to write. Literally. Nothing. I thought, Write a limerick. That would be fun. But all I can think of are ones I’ve already written. Or other people have written. As I am not an advocate of plagiarism, I am now left with nothing to fill my daily writing quota. Snap.
Ah. An idea, if only a glimmer. Stream of consciousness a la James Joyce? Maybe listen in on the duelling voices carrying on in the back of mind? Such as:
“Or just ignore me, that’s great.”
“Kind of like you ignored them?”
“Snap. Be quiet.”
Nah, too irritating. What, then? What yarn is just waiting for me to spin it into a story? What deep-felt emotion is yearning for expression in poem form? Yeah, I’ve got nothin’. And now my time is up.
Can this count? Call it good for the day and feel guilt-free crashing on my couch with a book this evening once the day’s chores are complete?
Jury’s still out… 🙂