A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-And-Seventy-One

Well, it finally happened.  After a good run, I finally found myself facing the page without a real idea in my head for what to write.  I sat for quite a while not certain what to write, kind of fighting myself to find an idea, but that doesn't really work for me.  The pressure is not helpful for my creative process, I suppose.  Anyhow, I didn't want to admit that I was dry, so I just sat and waited for a long while.  Eventually, when it was already getting to be rather late, I pushed myself to just write something and get through with my work.  In some ways, I think it is probably good this happened, as it takes down the pressure for tomorrow.

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