Sunday Afternoon Blues

Sunday Afternoon Blues Perhaps you’ve been where I am today and yesterday and the day before that: there’s nothing in my head to write about, no swirling ideas, no phrases magically coming together into a poem. I’d even be happy to write one that I didn’t like, but I’m in the desert; none of my tricks to fool myself are working. My favorite book about creativity, one of those “just do it” types, says that the lack of an idea can only be resolved by staring at a blank piece of paper until blood drips from one’s forehead No blood has fallen yet, but I’ve dampened a few pristine sheets with tears of frustration, anger even at the loss of my muse. I sincerely hope she’s just on vacation in the Bahamas, and hasn’t fallen for someone else. *The book I refer to is Art & Fear, by Bales and Orland. I’ve read it a dozen times; apparently I need to read it again.