Writer’s Block

I’ve always imagined my writer’s block as a giant toy wooden block.  The block is a pale wood and the painted letters and numbers are raised out of the smooth sides.  The color changes–sometimes it’s blue, sometimes it’s red–but it’s always on a hill.  It’s so enormous that there is no way that I can avoid it.  It’s like the Lion Hunt song, “Can’t go over it, can’t go under it, gotta go through it!”  I can’t tell you how I ever get through it, mostly because by the time I’m past my writer’s block I’m actually writing, not imagining how I got through that stupid wooden block.  But now that block is back and looming over me.  I wish I had thought more about how I got through it.  Drill?  Ax?  Fire?  I can’t figure it out!  

You suck, you stupid block.

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