A Good Cattle Prod is Hard to Find

Hah. I knew the title of this entry would make you keep reading...

Seriously (yes I DO know how to be serious), I can't seem to write a thing. I can't edit. I can't even brainstorm. It's really strange inside my brain right now. My brain never shuts down. It's one of the reasons I don't sleep well. The moment my bladder fills and wakes me at 2 a.m. (what? TMI?) my brain starts up thinking. Not about anything exciting -- in fact, last night I keep singing the words to my daughters geography songs CD, "The southern border of the United States, the southern border of the United States, California, Arizona, New Mexico..." (email me if you need the rest of the states. Oh, and I have the eastern border and the Pacific states memorized, too. I always forget North Dakota in the Northern border, and the middle? Sheesh.. fuggedaboutit.)

So, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah... writing. Or not writing as the case may be. I have the first several chapters of Camilla printed off. I've done the first three pages. I was responsible for posting the weekly prompt in my study group, but when I sat down to write something for it... nada.

I need someone to poke me in the butt with a cattle prod and get me moooooo-ving. I sit at the computer and stare. I didn't even want to write in this blog today, and that's exceptionally strange.

So, if you're in Southern New Hampshire with your cattle prod, come on down. I could use a little impetus here.

Writers write.

Right?