Sometimes, the words just don’t want to form on the page. 

You struggle for each one. Tilt your head from one side to the other, crack your neck, crack your knuckles. Each motion shouts, “Hey! I mean business, over here! Get to work!”

But the page remains blank. 

Slowly, a single sentence forms. Then another. And those? Those are hard-won, but unremarkable words. The emotion is flat. The scene too dry. And if you know it, then you can be damn sure your readers will know it, too, when they click on the link containing your work. 

Your child wants to be chased all over the neighborhood. Your ex wants to fight you one minute and butter you up the next. Your cat yowls, begging for your hand to run over the length of her body. Your attention split, your focus shattered.

Seven hundred and fifty. It’s not November, you can stop at seven hundred and fifty. And maybe you even have that, now. But you want to at least finish writing this page. You want to reach the end of this scene. 

And you will. You just need to claw those last few sentences free from the recesses of your brain.

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