Currently, I am suffering through a bad bout of writer’s block and maybe even a bit of winter time blues. The thought of lifting a pen, typing on a key board or editing feels akin to lifting a heavy weight or going for a long, uphill run (neither of which I want to do). I get tired just thinking about it. The thing about writing is that the author is often a servant to “the whims of a creative breeze.” When there is no breeze blowing the authors way- there is little he or she can do to force it. Such is the hazard of the writing trade. I do not like this state of things but I realize that good prose can not be forced or contrived. So, patiently I will wait, go about my day to day life and return whenever the breeze once again decides to blow my way.