Editor’s Note: The following story by Jeff Rembert was posted by Ghost Parachute: A Literary Magazine on its website under Blog on May 20, 2020.
You’re staring at the screen, and you’ve got nothing. Your mind is a void. You type random words and hope a coherent sentence emerges. Still nothing. Your cat gives it a shot with words of her invention and does so with steadfast confidence. Still incoherent, but your cat doesn’t care. Your frustration continues unabated. In your cat’s eyes, you’re simply a dog. Good luck with that.
Futile efforts, cat judgement, emptiness of thought and desire are common. The origin of this state of inability remains unknown to scientists, literary professors and writing coaches. Politicians blame Belgium. Your father blames your mother’s side of the family. Your mother says something about a real father. While theories fail to adequately explain the malady, it continues to rage through writing communities, literary groups and freelance sweatshops.
And no one is immune. You have what some call writer’s block.
Writer’s block affects the young and old, the experienced and inexperienced, short story writers and novelists, romantic writers and fantasy apocalyptic authors (same thing), English undergrads and MFAs. Writer’s block doesn’t recognize borders, culture, race or political parties. It affects those with and without the latest technology. Starbucks patrons are particularly susceptible.