I just got hit by writer’s block. This is rather odd, for there are many people who would claim that I not a writer by any meaning of the word. Then again those same people also compare me to a monkey with a typewriter. I know they’re wrong because I’m clearly using a computer and I haven’t thrown my poop at anybody in years (Months?).

Noting that the block was larger than a doorframe and not being able to recall anything regarding writer’s block destroying someone’s home I simply went back inside.

Whelp, I’m glad I got that over with.

Still lacking an idea for a story I drank two doses of Neo-Citran and nodded off. That stuff can give you some pretty messed up dreams. Unfortunately that night I just dreamt about a lot of split pea soup. Geysers and oceans of split pea soup. Interesting and all, but where could I run with that idea?

The next morning I sat down at my computer with hot chocolate in hand. That’s when it hit me. Writer’s block is a thing that exists entirely in my own head. Whatever I ran into outside yesterday couldn’t have been writer’s block. It was probably another building or something to that effect.

After taking a drill to my skull and letting the obstructive thoughts out, I’m glad to say that it worked and I’m working on some stories as of this writing. It is my hope that this explanation will satisfy your curiosity as to the slower rate of updates as of late.

Until then, love yourself and the world will follow suit. ❤