my muse has returned

Sometimes I just can't write. I know I'm not the first person whose ever felt this way. about a week ago, Ned was downstairs practicing Chinese, and I was upstairs staring at a blank word document, waiting for the words to come. After about an hour of blah first sentences, and random internet searching, I went downstairs. I stormed into the living room and said,
"I can't write!"

Ned listened, and gave me some ideas to write about.

"No, no no no no no no no," I answered to all his suggestions. He took a deep breathe and said,


"well, this is the point when many famous writers have turned to the bottle."

There was about some wine in the kitchen, so I heated it in a small pot (my new fav way to drink red wine) and took the hot wine upstairs to the computer.

I drank it, and some words came out, but not how I wanted.


A few days passed and I was lying awake in bed musing over my life, worrying, thinking about grad school, if I want to be a teacher, when to go home to America, where to live?

Then, the first sentence came to me.... (I can't tell you yet. I don't want to jinx the story)

but the next day, I wrote exactly 1,000 words of a new memoir piece I'm regurgitating out of my memory and spirit.

I feel good.

I don't know where it's going, but it feels good to be engaged in a writing project.

Hopefully, I won't have to bring the bottle out. The words will come out on their own.