Dear Writer’s Block,
How I despise you, how you surprise me. Blocking me, annoying me. Can I erase you away?
My hate is so red with rage it is almost an obsessed love that I harbor for you deep inside.
Why would I love you WB? Is it because you are warning me? My plot or plan is crumbling?
WB, oh WB, do you enjoy me? I know you come so oftenly. But wait, just a second, you really do help me. Surprising as it seems. Writer’s block has become a personal alarm.
WB you aren’t to be hated, but loved. As acceptance of you makes me realize what I am doing wrong. Being comfy with a sh**ty first draft and embracing that the first turnout will stink like a mass of garbage landfills that sat for years is a palatable thought. But writers block, you are harder to come to terms with.
WB, you can’t live with it. But ‘ya can’t live without it!