The writer’s block dissolved and the neural network sprang into action. I spent the last week writing a story. In this story, I am a little girl in a dystopian world. Writing this story made me twist my world-view around and made me think of how things would be if…

The story is written and sent, and instead of writing about it, I should be writing another before the block begins to form again, but I can’t stop thinking about the block. The writer’s block is an odd thing. Even when it’s gone, it leaves behind its shadow that lingers on – reminding you that the block is a real thing and if you disrespect its existence, it might return with a vengeance and tear your writing plans to shreds. The shadow whispers, “don’t forget the block, remember it, chant its name, ask it to stay away!”

“And you?” I ask the shadow.

“I’ll remain. A reminder of those lost days and months. I am the priest who’ll remind you of the heaven and hell of writing. I’ll keep you safe, if you keep me happy. I’ll take your prayers to block. I’ll be your agent. Don’t try to erase me. Let me be.”

So the shadow remains.

Tonight, I shall begin another story, and we’ll see if the shadow is keeping her part of the bargain.

I don’t know how she handled hers, but I think sailing the Nile in the SS Sudan must’ve removed it for Agatha Christie.