As a girl who grew up in South Mississippi, I’ve seen my share of mud. Yes, I’ve even played in it. Walking through the marsh swamp hunting deer or searching out a lost coon hound. (Did I mention I’m a veganish/vegitarian/animal rights person now?) Four wheeler or horseback riding on the trails with friends. Riding shotgun with a studly guy showing what he and his truck are made of down the power lines. Heck, I’ve even voluntarily run obstacle courses through the stuff.
In all the playing inevitably people and machines got stuck.
Mud is slick and slippery. It’s also thick and messy. It suctions to you, holding you down like a super villain with super strength. If you’ve ever played in the mud, you know it’s tough to get out of the mud.
Well friends, I’m stuck in the mud!
I’m bogged in the figurative mud of writing. Chapter 19 is the suction holding my fingers over the keys, unable to move. Eventually I’ll twist and wiggle enough and my fingers with break free. I’ll stare at the page long enough and the words will come.
This muddy spot will pass, it always does. But it got me thinking.
What do you do when you get stuck in the mud?