I think I’ve been suffering from a fractured writing bone. At very least, a sprain of the metaphorical ligament, because, WOW, have things been dead around here.
I was recently on a plane, and it conjured so very many images for me that the notes I began scribbling for a short story were tough to keep up with. Perhaps it was physical therapy? It was fast and furious, and I was exhausted after, so maybe so.
Maybe I haven’t lost use of my writing limbs after all. Maybe with some regular exposure, I can exercise them into shape.
For the moment, though, could you kindly pass the Gatorade?