Delay of game

Sometimes I get constipated. With my thoughts. And, therefore, my writing. A total blockage. I’m pretty sure this is where the term writer’s block comes from. But my absence from the blogosphere is not at all due to constipation. A new type of writing affliction has cramped my brain and rendered me unable to type a coherent sentence. To continue with the metaphor, it’s a push-for-a-pebble kind of affliction. I brainstorm, I sit, I draft, I think, I think some more and then – nothing. There are a little more than 20 posts sitting in my draft box, some with a few paragraphs and others just with a title.

However, that is all about to change. The past two weeks have given me enough material to write for the next three months. So, stick around. The diarrhea is about to hit the fan.

Pause

It’s my new favorite word.

It could be French, pow-say. Or it’s how I call out to my friend Paul when I slur, Pawz. Or the more traditional pause button I hit when I need to prepare a snack so I can finish a movie.

It doesn’t mean stop. It doesn’t mean forget it. It doesn’t mean go back and look. It means freeze. It means let me think. It means I’m not ready to move forward.

You can pause anything, really. A relationship, a career, an adult movie when someone’s at the door. Anything. By choice.

There is one thing, however, that pauses naturally, uncontrollably and unpredictably. Writing. Writing and pause are like master and servant. I just haven’t figured out who serves who.

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