I can’t write. And when I say that I can’t write, I mean that I can’t write. Anything. No thing. Not a blog post, not my grad school application essay. Not even something as minor league as an email. It’s like my muse has up and abandoned me. He’s found someone new. He’s probably off inspiring some painter in Poland at this very moment while I’m stuck trying to tough it out on Writer’s Block all alone.
I know, what a jerk.
The hardest part is not understanding why he left. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t try to keep things interesting. I did! I provided him with countless writing topics and all he had to do was chose one. Just one. Like my trip to New York, for example. Or my new job. Or my near fatal plane crash or the “befriending death” workshop I took last week, (which, by the way, was taught by none other than Oprah’s personal spiritual advisor). I mean, that’s some good stuff. Some top-notch material right there. But no, he wasn’t interested. I guess that now that I don’t live in Japan anymore I’m not worthy of his attention.
My biggest fear is that he’s moved on for good. What if I end up like one of those tragic “almost was” types on E! who were dumped by their muses too soon in their careers? I’ll be the Eve Plumb of the writing world. Just another eccentric who once upon a time almost wrote a novel that almost got published.