GONE FISHING

With my motivation batteries out of juice and my head entrenched in a word cloud crammed full of ideas, yet unable to reel in the one which will inspire this post, I’ve decided to go fishing. Not your typical jump in your boat, push off, and row out to the middle of the lake kind of fishing. That’s too cumbersome. It would involve changing out of my pyjamas, slathering on sun-screen, and inflicting pain on earthworms.

Today’s fishing expedition is more about finding a solution to flushing a bout of CPoC from my system. As anyone who has ever been afflicted with this aliment can attest, Clogged Pipes of Creativity strikes without warning. One minute, it’s victim is ferociously pounding a thundering waterfall of coherent ideas across the keyboard until, without warning, something dams the river. Fingers poise mid-air only long enough for the deafening silence to be broken by a single mouse farting passing gas in a far-off forest. Eyes bulge. Cries of “Noooooo! CPoCeeeeeee!” are so shrill that they shake pictures of loved ones off walls and send them crashing to the floor.

Although, there is indeed a part of the population that claims CPoC does have warning signs, the most common being refreshing one’s Facebook browser, first in ten minute intervals, but then picking up speed and ending in obsessive games of Words with Friends to the point of challenging friends of friends, enemies of friends, or even Flo, the Progressive Insurance Lady.

In most instances, CPoC is accompanied by a severe case of VD. When it is, the suggestion is to lock oneself in a sound proof room, especially when minors are present, in the event that one’s Verbal Diarrhea is rife with EP. Personally, I have never experienced an episode of CPoC that was in any way lacking Extreme Profanity.

In closing, if you feel an overwhelming compulsion to scrub your toilet or you’ve hit ‘like‘ more than fifty times in the last hour on any social media platform other than this blog, chances are that you too are suffering from CPoC at this very moment.

However, do not despair. There is a cure for this dread affliction.

GO FISHING!

Bait your hook with one word,

Just do it!
Cast off, tap out one word, and
Victory will be yours.
It just worked for me.

How do you deal with writer’s block?

About Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner

I am an adventure seeking ponderer of the mysteries of the universe, writer of children's books (represented by Stephen Fraser of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency), and lover of anything involving armor, archery, or swashbuckling.
This entry was posted in ADVENTURES, HUMOR, VIEW FROM MY SOAP BOX, WRITING CHALLENGES and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to GONE FISHING

  1. You crack me up. I’d like to add taking endless BuzzFeed quizzes and checking the number of views on my blog to the list of symptoms. Words always seem to arrive when I’m in the shower,, driving, or putting my son to bed in a quiet room. I keep little notebooks and post its all over my person. Good luck and as we say in CrossFit, get on it ;-).

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  2. HA!! I love your creative acronyms! And lol about Words with Friends and Flo! You’re a scream, DGLW!! When I first read this, I thought you meant “fishing for compliments.” Something you, Roomy will NEVER ever need to do. All the praise and accolades will just naturally come ‘streaming’ in with wit like yours – – so never worry about ‘floundering’ because you dolphinately got it going on!

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  3. Lyn says:

    Sothat’s what my problem has been lately! CPoC! It hits without warning for sure. Typing along at 75wpm and suddenly your in 1st gear; or worse–neutral. I’ll have to try the one word remedy 🙂

    Like

    • I think it was in the air, Lyn. I’ve heard a few fellow scribes complaining, but your prompts are always helpful. In fact, I might use the most recent for this week’s post. Ohhhh, Tuesday already…I’d better get on it. Thank you!

      Like

  4. Victoria Eller says:

    Great! I love all of your abbreviations! Just so you know, my dad used to write like that when he couldn’t think of anything to write to us when we were away at camp.

    Like

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