Writer’s block is bullocks. That’s what I always thought. Plumbers don’t get plumber’s block, that’s what this guy taught me—along with the discipline of writing daily. And also, carpenters don’t wait for a muse, they just pick up the hammer, the nail, and pound. Writer’s block, I have always been convinced even before this guy confirmed it, is a pet habit of the indolent. I never had it. I loved to write. Love to write. Restraint might have been a good thing, actually, healthier for family relationships, back when I was churning out the prose word after boundary-free word. I was never blocked. But then. But-
Or maybe it is a thing.
Or maybe I’m lazy.
Or maybe I’ll have to go back to the 30-minute limit.