ASIDE: BLOCKHEAD

After twenty-five plus years of tattooing, there are many aspects of the job which feel autonomic—like breathing or blinking. Other parts rely on muscle memory. Then there are times I’m honestly on auto-pilot. I’m more than certain anyone who’s endured any career which breaches the quarter-century mark can relate.

But damn, nothing prepares one from writer’s block. In fact, at this moment, writer’s block is what’s allowing me the chance to scribble down this post, because I’m currently stumped while trying to progress through the sequel to Edsel Peck in The Rusted Empire.

For the past week, I’m at a standstill. Rusted motor parts that have solidified come to mind. Elephants trying to walk through drying cement do so as well… (Jot that one down for later.)

I’m easily two paragraphs away from connecting one scene to another. No joke. My characters need to get from one room to an adjacent room. We’re talking less that ten feet and I’m at an impasse. And worst of all, I know everything about that next room—everything that’s gonna’ happen in that room, all the dialogue that will be shared. (Head hits the computer desk.)

When I get “writer’s block” it’s never a moment when nothing comes to mind. I have too many files in the brain which need deleting. (I guess that’s why I don’t sleep so well.) I’m always a breath away from the “a-ha moment”. It’s akin to having someone’s name on the tip of your tongue, or when struggling for that particular adjective you want to use for that bozo who’s trying to make three lane changes because they’re about to miss their turn into Starbucks.

It's beyond frustrating to be so close to building bridges in a literary sense, only to find out you’re one or two planks shy from completing the task at hand…

(Deep breath)

It’ll come to me…

-Lukesh