Writer’s Brain on COVID19
I remember sitting at my desk, staring at words on the page. Some of the words made sense, others were alphabet soup. My mind was confused, tired, and drained.
However, I needed a story. I needed words. I needed some kind of creative “win” for the day. I couldn’t stop writing just because my brain flaked.
Have laptop, will travel. I grabbed my keys and headed to the local coffee house.
Living on the Eastside of Seattle, I hadn’t needed a car. An open coffee shop, house, or drive through was readily available. I targeted the establishments with large storefronts. They supplied me with the natural kind of energy I needed, reality.
Jump forward six months and a COVID outbreak.
I’m sitting at my desk, staring at words on the page. Some words make sense, others seem jumbled. Confused, tired, drained by responsibility I have no place to roam.
I need a story. I need words. I need some kind of creative “win” for the day. I can’t stop writing just because…
I have laptop but can’t travel.