Writing fiction has been difficult. It’s been difficult for years now. Even writing blog posts can feel like pulling my own teeth. With as deeply as writing is entwined with how I see myself, with how I feel about myself, this whole thing has sucked.

One of the tools I’ve used to kick myself out of a writing funk has been changing the scenery. Pick up, go somewhere else, sit down, and try again. Diners, parks, and coffee shops have been great for this sort of thing. But, you know.

COVID-19

This week, though, that changes. I’ve got my vaccination, I’ve got some vaccinated friends, and have been invited to join them on a road trip across the Midwest. Lots of driving, some motels, and meeting with other vaccinated friends that are strewn across the land. I’m bringing notebooks, pens, and a laptop. Oh, let’s not forget my mask and my vaccination card. (Should I say vaccine again, just for good measure?)

No excuses. I want to push through this. I want to find that zone. I want to find that place where frustration, anxiety, doubt, and stress transmute into worlds, people, and story.