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27 June 2005: I'm in one of my old zones again today: I feel semi-exuberantly ready to work on the essay I plan on extracting from my recent presentation at Boston on the influence of Cummings . . . but I haven't yet been able to write a word of it, although I've been up for seven hours (it's now 1:30 P.M.) Making this entry gave me trouble, too. I felt able to write, but had no subject. So, writer's block concerning my essay, writer's blank concerning this.
No blank at all concerning the Cummings--I've written several paragraphs of its first pages in my head already, some of them more than once. Usually, when I have this kind of block, I break out of it fairly quickly. It just takes my forcing a sentence out. I also too often suffer the far worse block of not being able to want to write anything. In that case, the best plan is to go shoot baskets, or something. But I've banged words out of such a block, too, and gotten going despite it.
I can always take care of a diary entry--well, unless I'm just too physically beat to. I seem to get blocked only from writing things I believe I need to write, generally things promised like columns.
Meanwhile, I'm suffering publisher's block, too. This summer, my outfit, the Runaway Spoon Press, has four books on its schedule. Two are now ready to take to the copy place, but I can't seem to get myself to work on the other two.
Okay, I'm warmed up. Now to go see if I can write the first sentence of my Cummings essay.
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