While in the shower I realized my hero committed to jogging daily with her friend, and she never breaks a sweat again in the story. Note to self: Revise jogging scene. Maybe the two girls could go to the bar and tip back some tequila shooters.
Scratch that.
Readers will kill me on Amazon.
Better idea: Have hero come back from the run only to throw up on her friend's shoes. Hence, no more jogging invitations. Besides, jogging is so passe.
Wait! There are Segways! Modern. Intriguing. No sweating. No throwing up. No struggle. No Segways.
Rats.
But jogging is a chestnut, no doubt about it. Let's see, the two characters have talked in quite a few situations: over coffee, at a restaurant, while drinking wine, and they've even done some crying in a closet.
What's left?
I'm feeling a little sweaty. My heart is bruising my ribs. I have a potassium tablet stuck in my throat.
Could this be writer's block?
Is this what happens when one idea is so married to my brain that only a divorce decree can free me?
But I don't believe in writer's block. I'm going to sit here until my characters find something else to do under my brilliant dialogue that represents and precipitates change.
Possible ideas:
1. Dance the polka? (The band is too loud for meaningful dialogue.)
2. Shop for flip flops? (Really? Flip flops are an impulse buy.)
3. Make clover chains in a meadow? (No meadows, sorry.)
4. Trim each other's bangs? (Real friends would never.)
5. Fish from a pier? (Ew.)
6. Paint a room? (The fumes!)
But something has to happen outside of the character's head to bring an outer and inner change. Yes, the dialogue does that, but in the original scene my hero's lack of physicality makes her more open to romance with a man she considers "older."
I'm heading back to the shower. Where else?
Writer's block is a convenient excuse for an art that is incredibly...
Incredibly what? Do you believe in writer's block? How do you combat the beast?















