1.) I checked out random article generators and writing prompts (this one is the most fun one I found to play with. You can also check here and here…and, actually, that second link is one I’m going to revisit later).
2.) Nervous fidgeting. Biting my tongue. Coffee and coffee and more coffee.
3.) Checked Twitter feed to see what titles of articles came up: anything I could write about, too?
4.) Still blank. More coffee. Bummed a cigarette. Tried to chew gum instead of my tongue.
5.) Asked myself why it is I can’t think anymore. Can I write about that, I asked myself.
6.) I answered in the negative. Went to gas station. Bought cigarettes and a lighter. Looked at fidget spinners on counter and rolled my eyes. Decided I needed more coffee.
7.) Drank another cup of coffee. Whizzed. Smoked. Checked out random articles on Wikipedia. (Nothing.) Googled “random articles.” Googled also: “public domain thing-ys I can rewrite or edit.” Came up with stupid article spinner bots in the search bar. Decided to smoke.
8.) Finished coffee. Whizzed again. Smoked. Remembered there was a reason writers drink.
9.) Ordered a beer.
10.) Drank it.
11.) Ordered another. Tried to think of myths, advice columns, fairy tales, plays, anything I could riff on. Smoked again. Drank the second beer.
12.) Made this list. Still not writing. Still not thinking. But I am feeling just a very little bit better. Thanks, beer! (If you’re going to drink, you pathetic wastrel of a writerly sort of human being, please do it responsibly.)
Perhaps I’ll take up sports. Or drawing. Or more drinking. Hemingway fished a lot. And drank a lot. And, coincidentally drank like a fish. And he wrote some things.
I believe tomorrow I’ll buy a fishing rod.