Blocked anyone?

I'm blocked again. Most writers will have trouble with writer's block at some point in their lives. The possible reasons for writer's block are myriad: fear, anxiety, a life change, the end of a project, the beginning of a project…almost anything, it seems, can cause that particular feeling of fear and frustration. Since my dad passed away, I just don't have the writing bug like I used to, so I begin to hunt around for ways to get the words flowing again. I found that fortunately there are as many ways to deal with writer's block as there are causes.

Carve out a time to write and then ignore the writer's block. Show up to write, even if nothing comes right away. W Sometimes I just sit and stare at the wall. Of course, pen in hand, just in case. Graham Greene famously wrote 500 words, and only 500 words, every morning. Five hundred words is only about a page, but with those mere 500 words per day, Greene wrote and published over 30 books.

Writer's block could be a sign that your ideas need time to gestate. Idleness can be a key part of the creative process. Give yourself time to gather new experiences and new ideas, from life, reading, or other forms of art, before you start again.

One moment the other day I started wondering why I'm writing. I started going back over story ideas and asked myself if I still enjoyed it. I knew the answer was a resounding yes, so now I need to just give myself time and the words will come. I read that If we continue to touch base with the joy you first felt in writing, it will sustain you, not only through your current block, but through whatever the future holds.

Piddler on the Floor

It's been a long absence from writing. Since daddy died, I just haven't had it in me to write, daydream or even read. My husband has been worried about me, constantly asking me if I'm okay. Plus the holidays add an extra sting into the mix, like pouring lemon juice on a festering wound.

Dad wouldn't want me crying, or gazing off for hours out the bedroom window. He'd want me to live, laugh and write. He'd want me to enjoy life to the fullest. And so I'm trying. To be honest, some days I'm not trying very hard.

And then fate stepped in to help me along. A friends Lab had puppies and Kyle decided we needed one.

It took me years to get over the lost of our last dog, but since January of this year, I started picking up interested in having a dog again. Not a puppy, I told Kyle. I want a dog from a shelter who needs a home. I'm not sure it was a serious request, neither did Kyle and so months went by and still no dog. Our life is easy and selfish with just us. We can leave on vacation at any time and not worry about an animal being left behind. But when a heart is hurting, what better way to distract the pain than having someone or something to care for.

Enter Molly.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving my husband Kyle and I drove to La Canada and picked out a sweet 7 week old black lab puppy. We purchased a large crate, several hundred dollars in chew toys, squeaky toys, collars, leases, and other dog accessories.

When we bought her, the family had a ping pong table up in the back yard with a family tournament going on. My father loved ping pong. We played it like some father's play catch with their kids.

"See," my husband says with a smile on his face. "This was meant to be!"

The drive home, she cried, obviously nervous for being away from her parents and litter mates. When we got her home and realized how much we had gotten ourselves into, I think we both had buyers remorse. The idea of my father placing the dog in our lives faded away.

Every hour she needed to go out. Of course, it's cold outside, the ground littered with wet leaves no one, man or beast wanted to leave the house. As we stood out on the grass at 2:00 in the morning, our breath billowing out in white clouds with every exhale, our bodies shivering as we waited for this adorable black pup to relieve its self- we thought, crap, what have we done.

But I've had out of control puppies before. Barkers, whiners, chewers and so far she's none of those. Keep in mind that she's only 8 weeks old. She's learning to come when we call her, to sit and fetch her favorite toy, a Santa Monkey. So far she fits into our life style nicely. She sleeps alot and likes to watch TV. Dog Whisper and the Ipad commercial seems to be her favorite, though her tail wags at the Geico commerical with the woodchucks.

Despite the change in our lives, she gives so much love it warms my heart. With that said, how could she not be a gift from my dad?