At the Bus Stop.

Currently with my writing I am waiting for the struggle bus to pick me up. I have one tennis shoe on and one raggedy black heel on my feet. I decided on yoga pants but in a last ditch effort to look “presentable” I threw on a nice tunic and scarf combo. There’s a hot pink toboggan on my head and it’s 70 degrees out. Somewhere along the way I picked up a Vera Bradley bag to carry all my ideas and notes, but they are just sort of mashed down in there.

I dropped my coffee on the way out the door, so I just flung the cup back in the house. I’ll get to it when I come back later. Looks like my ride is here…

Photo courtesy of Somee Cards.
Photo courtesy of Somee Cards.


I think if you all read yesterday’s post you’d see I am struggling with writing, which just frustrates me even more. I’m picking at threads of inspiration that have come unwound. Many writer friends are in the same place as I am right now, which is a bit of a comfort but also a bit of a frustration too. They are immensely talented and I just want to throw encouragement at them to keep on writing. Something I really don’t want to do right now.

One thought on “At the Bus Stop.

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