The Sweat Prickles

Paper page with curl, copy space for text.Picture me this morning sitting cross-legged on the floor in a big empty room, microphone in hand.

An ON AIR sign flashes on somewhere I can’t see.

A spotlight, hot and messy, pours down from the ceiling making me sweat.

“You’re on, lady! Say something!” a voice in my ear pleads.

My nervous gaze scours the white walls, the white floor, the white ceiling for even a leftover shadow of an idea, a crumb of a subject, the faintest impression of a spent narrative…

Alas, Chloe Stowe finds nothing.

Not a scrap.

Not a speck.

Just the sweat prickling the back of my neck, the tinny whispers to “Do something… do something… do something” ringing non-stop in my ear.

With a guttural groan, I fling my head back and scream!

Blog Block.

A virulent strain of Writer’s Block that affects even the hardiest of bloggers.

It strikes without notice, care or regard…

It has struck me.

Fear not, my friends, it is not contagious and its effects are only brief.

Tomorrow, when the spotlight falls and the microphone is again shoved into my hands, I will answer.

Blog Block will not fell me. This I vow.

*my dog rolls her eyes, knowing this will be a very long day indeed*

Until tomorrow…


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