This is the hardest part. The starting.
I’m never more aware of all the things I’d rather be doing than writing than when it’s actually time to sit down and do some. Usually right around the time I open up the computer it becomes clear to me that there has never been a better moment to frame that Batman poster that’s been sitting in the corner since April.
Or water the brown houseplants that sit languishing in their dimly lit corners.
Or make a couch out of old pallets like I saw some guy do on the internet once.
Or watch that movie Netflix keeps enthusiastically recommending to me. Sure it only has two stars, but the good people at Netflix wouldn’t recommend something they knew to be bad, would they?
Yes, it turns out, they would. How do I know that? Because I successfully avoided the blank page that day by watching yet another found-footage horror movie that consists largely of screaming into a shaky night-vision camera.
It was not worth it.
Luckily, on mornings like these I have a blog into which I can pour my stream of consciousness. Prime the pump by venting my frustration into the ether of the Poetry Question.
Today, for example.
What do you do when you find yourself struggling to get started?