Writer’s Block

I. Hate. Writer’s. Block.

ESPECIALLY when so much is happening in my life.

ESPECIALLY when so much is in transition right now.

ESPECIALLY when in a mere twenty four hours I have felt eagerness, joy, elation, nostalgia, awkwardness, fear, anxiety and annoyance.

ESPECIALLY when I have decided to become a writer and I have time to write but I don’t know what to write or how to write it and instead have decided to do things like play bubble shooters and stress about craigslist postings and my living and moving budget.

ESPECIALLY when I know my glaring typo on my WB fellowship script has sealed my fate as a fake writer who is now $30 admissions fees poorer and a sham and a disgrace to all writers who claim they are writers and know how to write without typos. Stupid… stupid… stupid.

ESPECIALLY when I have so many people in my life who I love with all my heart and I want to do nothing more than write them all individual love letters with clever inside jokes and pop culture analogies. John, you and I are living proof that When Harry Met Sally is BULLSHIT, and Mom and Dad, you could beat up June Cleaver and Mike Brady in an “Awesome Parent” fight. Kyle, I am not sure which one is Ozzie and which one is Harriet but I know that assumption is correct. Jen, we are NOT the characters of Something Borrowed, but instead the characters of Bridesmaids, and Lauren, ratings are up for the Fourth of July.

ESPECIALLY when I close my eyes and rather than sleep I begin to play a curiously cool action movie staring me and Adam Scott that never seems to find a logical ending.

ESPECIALLY when I watch an episode of Cougartown and know I could do better, and then I watch an episode of Community and I want to do better.

ESPECIALLY when I am terrified in where I was once excited.

ESPECIALLY when I know things are coming to an end.

I. Hate. This.

– One L

“Happy Smackah!” – Dan Cribby


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