Writing is… well, hard to describe.  I am certain that I am not the only one who struggles with writing or creativity.  Some of the time, though, I think I over-think it.  Again, I am probably not alone.  Lately, though, the process of just getting something written down has been arduous.  There are days when I think, “Just write something…anything!”  Still, even with that, there are still times when just makes it to the page.  Lonely page.

Over the years I’ve written poems, songs, music, hymns, letters, blog posts, articles, speeches, sermons, and the like.  There have been periods in my life where these freely flow from soul to sonnet, but the well of late runs dry. 

What to do when the well runs dry?  Put something on the page?  Literally?  Even if it’s just an admission of failure?  Even if it’s just the sentence, “I have nothing to say.”  What stands out to me, though, is that during the drought there are still so many ideas, so many things that spark thoughts, of, “Oh, I should write on that…” or, “I was just thinking about that the other day in the car…” or, “So and so brought up that idea in conversation a few minutes ago.” 

It isn’t as though there are no ideas, concepts, or stories to write about.  Not at all.  They are all around.  I can’t get away from them.  Still, nothing.  This post is the most I’ve been able to utter with any coherence on the matter.  I really don’t know where to go from here.  Where do YOU go if and when you arrive here, where so much surrounds and yet so little gets created?

Even when nothing results from the inner writer, I comfort myself with, “At least the desire is there.”