If only writer’s block worked like tetris, where the blocks fall on top of and into each other and eventually disappear.

Truth be told, I hate writing. I hate the torture it puts me through – I get half way through a story or poem and it follows me around. It’s a haunting shadow that trails after me.
“What if… maybe he could… and then she could say… show, don’t tell…”
What I love is a finished piece. My little piece of the world pinned to a page. A screen.

I’m currently working hard to manouvre my blocks into place, in the hope that it does work like tetris, in the hope that enough of my trying eventually just ends in it all disappearing, and I win the game. I write something of value and meaning.