Write away

Here I went and paid good money, got myself a blog and now I can’t think of a darn thing to write. Now that I feel pressured to write (from me anyway) (haven’t heard from any fans🤔)it’s just not happening. A fb friend of mine, that’s an excellent poet, said he only writes when the mood strikes. I suppose that’s what I should do.

My problem is I want to be an amazing writer right now. I want to be a Sean of the South. Or be like my favorite author Anne Lamott. I don’t want to put out dull uninteresting stuff. I want it to be amazing, awe inspiring or hilarious. I realize it may take time to get that good but I don’t like that. I want people to already be driving by saying, “hey that’s where that famous author lives.” And of course the town name a street after me. Oh and a strong apology from my high school English/writing teacher for that B.

It is getting frustrating that nothing is manifesting the way I want it to. It’s like my writing skills slipped out the back door and hit the road. There’s no conjuring up the stories at will I’ve got to sit around and wait for them to avail themselves to me.

I have started three different stories but they are just oh so bad and go nowhere. Maybe I need to try some shrooms or some such natural enhancer to clear the blockage.
Speaking of that, a little side story. Back when I was in high school and first year college I’d get horrendous tension headaches. I mean lose sight in one eye tension. Good ole Dr. Thornbrough hooked me up with some percodan. The world became such a rosey place. Have you ever wondered why we can’t just have a natural brain chemistry like that. Shoot there’d be no wars everyone one would get along, life would be just dandy. Darn shame we can’t all be naturally percodan brained like. Now I’m not advocating drug use here people just trying to paint a picture. Anyway….

I don’t know maybe I’m just trying too hard or maybe I’m just not a writer after all. Maybe I’m just……ordinary.