There were days not too long ago when my thoughts tumbled down like water gushing from broken pipes. I couldn’t write fast enough. Almost mindlessly, my fingers danced across the keyboard, capturing the moments and ideas as they fled across my brain. Prolific posts vomited onto my blog, poems to the group I belong to, and nostalgia splattered here and there into Word documents when the ‘Net wasn’t available.
Suddenly, the thoughts tangled, the digits paused for just a moment too long, and the words stopped altogether. Now, the ideas just aren’t there.
Mack Ames Books and Maine Moose Patrol 