There are days when so many ideas and words fill my head that they begin leaking out of my ears. On those days all I have to do is lay my head sideways on the keyboard, and by the time I look up there is a new short story or essay or blog post. It takes a while to clean the mess from between the keys (think pancake syrup oozed between toddler’s fingers), but it is a beautiful mess.
Then mornings like this one, and my mind is as empty as the public swimming pool in October. I feel like the last kid there, my legs dangling in the cold water, everyone else home, everyone else eating mac and cheese while I’m left holding the crusty remnants of a peanut butter sandwich.
There is nothing new under the sun, I mutter to myself, feeling a syrupy spot on the inside of one of my knuckles from the French toast I made for the kids this morning. There is nothing interesting.
* * * * *
Now I sit in the empty auditorium while ideas audition. The few that come out from the back of the stage, nervous and covering their mouths, receive a dirty look from me. The stink eye.
“I’ve already written about you,” I say with disgust, shaking my head at their audacity.
They murmur something that sounds like, Well, not exactly, then trip over their bellbottoms as they exit, stage right.
What do you do when you feel like there is nothing new to write about?