Curses, Blocked Again!

I've got writer's block today. Can't think of anything to write about. So I decided to write about the fact that I can't think of anything to write about. That ought to be good for a line or two. This is just one of those things that happens to writers. On a regular basis. Almost every day in fact. We stare into the blank screen or the blank page, and our minds go just as blank. The fear for all writers, of course, is that it'll stay blank, that we'll never again be able to thing of anything to write about. To a writer, that's the equivalent of a musician going deaf or an artist losing her hands. Writers are driven to write in the same way that musicians are driven to make music and actors are driven to perform. It's not just something we do; it's who we are. We can't just turn it off, find a new career, all that stuff that they tell you to do when you lose a job or your career field is being phased out through automation Writing is also the only artistic field that has gatekeepers - middlemen whose approval you must get in order to sell your work. Think of it this way. If I'm a musician, I can go out on any street corner and start performing, and people will toss money into my guitar case. Or I can get gigs in bars and other small venues and get paid (not much but it's still money) to perform. If I'm a painter, it's even better. I can open my own shop, hang up my paintings, and people will come and look and - if they like what they see - buy. But if you're a writer, and you want to publish a book, first you have to get an agent top represent you. Then, the agent has to find a publisher who's willing to print your book. Then the publisher may or may not promote your book once it's published. And you, the writer, will get a pittance of the price that the book sold for. How little? If a book sells for $25.00, the author will usually get about a buck. Still, I press on. Because I have to. Because this is who I am. A writer. And today, I had nothing to say.