the reason for my writer’s block

picky-eater_thumbMy mind is like a finicky eater. My mind child comes reluctantly to the table, and I offer her things to eat- memories so sweet, secrets so juicy, and tales so nuanced and tender that I think she can’t fail to consume them. But my mind child just picks at everything. She makes faces and sighs, and sneaks sentences under the table to the dog when I’m not looking. She picks up a single word, like a grape, and peels it delicately before licking it and then squeezing it between her fingers until it pops loose and flies across the table. She stirs the chapter I have lovingly prepared for her around like mashed potatoes and drags her fork through it before looking up and asking if there isn’t anything else to choose from. Sometimes she even scoots down off her chair and goes rummaging through the cupboards in search of something better. There’s a box of writing prompts in there that have some possibilities, but she just shakes it once and checks the expiration date. These prompts, apparently, have grown a little stale. She doesn’t even consider the nutritious sacks of memories on the pantry shelf. Writing is far too difficult when you have to start from scratch, even if you have the best ingredients.

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