“To will is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not.” The author wasn’t talking about writing, but he could have been. I’m not talking about writer’s block. I’m talking about what I see as its opposite. That is, you’re sitting at the starting line, mind is revving, inspiration is red lining, the lights run down from red to green, you stomp on the gas—and the engine dies.
At my age lots of things can and do breakdown, usually at the worst possible moment. My back is spliced together and hurts most of the time. I have a knee with faulty wiring that will collapse, dumping me on the ground if I’m not on guard. My midnight oil starts burning about nine-thirty. I’m not complaining; I’m getting older. I’m rather happy about being alive.
Today’s challenge is getting the good ideas bouncing around in my head down onto the computer while dueling a severe headache. I can see the outlines of the ideas through the fog. When I take my eyes off them, they fade to gray, and I have to refocus to see them. Then, when I do write them, they come out as misspelled fog-shrouded silhouettes.
The spirit is willing, mind you. It’s the flesh that’s weak. This is probably a situation that will clear on its own. It might even be solved with something as simple as acetaminophen or helping the dog reach the toy he hasn’t played with in a week, but he now desperately wants.
I have decided to stick with the writing advice I usually dole out; “writers write” and “you can’t edit a blank page”. So, I’m working on writing my way out of this. If you find this post subpar, at least it’s not a blank page.
“Oh when you smilin’, when you smilin’,
The whole world smiles with you…
But when you cryin’ you bring on the rain,
So stop your sighin’ baby and be happy again.”
Write on.
Author’s Postscript: went on to write two more blog posts and 1000 words after finishing this post.

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