I'm sitting in my cold, dimly lit room in the small town of Amboy, Illinois thinking about something to write about when suddenly the idea strikes me. I have nothing to write about. I've been putting off writing this article for two days and I told my editor that I'd have an article for her by 5:00 PM CST. That's still a promise I intend to keep as I look at the clock in the lower right corner of my computer and see that it is already 4:51 and I still have come up with nothing interesting to say and nothing new to contribute the world. The fear of not completing my task should motivate me into action; some kind of rapid movement of the fingers spurred on by some kind of stroke of genius that I pulled out of the deep recesses of my mind.
But instead I sit staring at my computer and turn my head slightly to see that the time is now 4:57 and there are still no words in front of me. I check my phone and look for some kind of inspiration or distraction, only finding the latter. I get up to pet my Boston Terrier named Tootsie. I think not very long or hard about just skipping writing something altogether, in the hope that no one notices or cares. Then it hits me.
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I can write whatever I want. So I do.
