This post first appeared on Mona Andrei’s personal blog, Moxie-Dude – Life updates gone wrong. Or right. She’s undecided. Follow her on Twitter @MoxieDude.
Today’s post is not a real post. If you want to read a real post I suggest you check out some of the more popular posts on my blog. Consider The 4 Phases of an Ending Relationship (written over two years ago but still gets a ton of traffic), for one. Stay with me through this one for a few more recommendations …
THIS post, on the other hand, is about nothing. Well not “nothing” exactly because even writing about nothing is writing about something.
So, let’s talk about writer’s block for a minute.
Writer’s block is one of the great mysteries of the world because writing is thinking on paper and since we’re ALWAYS thinking, well, how could anyone possibly get hit with writer’s block when thoughts are everywhere?
Lying in bed trying to sleep. THINKING.
Picking up dog poop. THINKING.
You see? From the mundane to the intentional we’re never alone because there we are. Stuck to our thoughts like flypaper.
Speaking from personal experience, I believe that true writer’s block stems from a need to water our plants. You see, I have this theory: plants are narcissistic. We think they’re silent but really they have a super-hero ability to interfere with our thoughts (especially the thoughts of writers). While we’re sitting in front of our screens focusing on words (or in some cases, focusing on the blank screen), the demands emanating from our surrounding plants (“I need water – COME WATER ME NOW!”) intercept our concentrated efforts so that we have no choice but to obey their thirst.
Technically, this makes writer’s block the fault of plants.
Editor: Where’s that article?
Writer: Was that due today? I was busy watering my plants.
Editor: Oh. Okay.
And on the subject of plants, someone gave me a venus flytrap recently. This, in case you don’t know, is a carnivorous plant that eats things like flies and freeze-dried bloodworms. (True story. I looked it up.)
All that to say that if your eyebrows are questioning what the hell you’re reading here, I did warn you: This post is about nothing.
I must leave you now. I have to go feed my venus flytrap. (Hmmm. Maybe I should pitch this as a slogan to the Beef Producer’s Association?)
PS. I’m hoping that I can train my venus flytrap to go vegetarian. At first I thought vegan, but that may be a tad unrealistic.
PPS. A vegetarian plant sounds like cannibalism, which is almost (I said ALMOST) worse than a plant that eats freeze-dried bloodworms.
PPPS. I’m thinking about writing a post called, “Is blogging right for you? Do you really have something worth publishing?” Stay tuned. Clearly I’m an expert.
PPPPS. Why are you still here? Don’t you have to go water your plants or something?
Looking for more of my real posts? Try Dear My Daughter: I didn’t mean “Honey Boo Boo” when I called you Honey Boo Boo (this post was also featured on Blogher and got me a lot (pronounced: A LOT) of hate mail. Oh well. *shoulder shrug*), and The Secret to Being an Adult (apparently I’m qualified to give away such hermetic secrets).