• Creative Juice

    The writer in the current

    The writer sits on his green couch, keyboard poised on the soft pillow resting on his lap. The blank screen intimidates him and will not back down from his insistent stare. He wonders what will come forth, if anything will come forth, for doubts have multiplied of late. Self-doubts about his talent, fed by fearful thoughts and the burden of expectations that he places on himself, spread like wildfire through his veins. He can feel the doubt there. He feels it in the knot of stress in his shoulders. Yet the defiant scent of cinnamon wafts through the air, a byproduct of an afternoon’s spontaneous urge to bake cinnamon rolls. He takes a…