Sometimes the cacophony of life in my mind drowns out the voices of my characters, and I cannot write no matter how hard I try. This is a very stressful thing when you are trying to finish a book. I sit in front of a blank page and will the words to appear, but nothing happens. Panic sets in. My heart pounds. My breath catches in my chest. I close my eyes and see ghostly, haunting flashes of the people and chores that are clamoring for my attention.

What is a writer to do?

A writer counts her blessings.

  • I have a husband who loves me and wants to share his life with me, both good and bad.
  • I have two sons who still seek me out for love and support even though they are long past the days of climbing up in my lap so I can dry their tears or jumping into my arms because they roller bladed down the street.
  • My mother is still alive and has her mind so that I can visit her in the nursing home and talk with her and kiss her cheek and feel the loving touch of her hands.
  • My much younger sister is more than a family member whom I love like my own child. She is a friend.
  • My best friend from high school is my best friend to this day.
  • I have a job that I love filled with little children who have no awareness of any problem beyond an unopened Go-gurt or the location of their library book.

I say to myself, “Remember this, Beth. It is a full life that gives you something to write about.”

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