I'm all out of ideas...

And so here's something to chew on.

It’s been a while since I last wrote you. 

Yes, you.

And I apologize for that. 

I wish I had an exciting excuse to share, but I’ve simply been busy. 

Busy leaning in. 

Busy in back-to-back calls. 

Busy circling back, double-clicking on this and that while appreciating the 30,000 ft view my corporate colleagues often talk about. 

I say that with all due respect, of course. I appreciate a high-level view as much as the next cubicle worker. I’m just afraid of heights, so I prefer to spend my time in the weeds. 

Thankfully, my last Zoom call, the 23rd of the week, ended a little early. The host had to hop, probably to another call. Before doing so, they were gracious enough to acknowledge the extra 7 minutes they’d gifted me back in my day. I would’ve had the whole hour if they were kind enough to put everything in an email. 

So here I am, mashing my freckled fingers on the keyboard, pondering the parallel path that brought me here, and searching the whiskey-stained corners of my brain for a clever idea to wax lyrical about. 

That’s the thing about ideas. Sometimes you have them; often you don’t. 

That’s the thing about writing, too. Sometimes it comes easy. More often, it doesn’t. 

On the good days, my fingers dance. Popping at the keys, threading phrases together, weaving wisdom and whims of the mind. 

On the bad days, I barely know where to start. Writers call it writer’s block.

Nonsense. 

I’ve never met a plumber who blamed the sudden inability to unclog a toilet on plumber’s block. Nor have I heard of a languishing salesperson attribute their third consecutive quarter of no deals to a chronic case of seller’s block. 

Writer’s block is a lot like voter fraud in many ways. The people who keep talking about it just aren’t happy with the results. 

When I don’t have an idea or a new buzzword to lampoon—which is rare, not because I’m a trove of ideas, but because there’s no shortage of corporate cockery to take aim at—I usually go through the same mental back-and-forth. 

Do I write about my day? 

Some pithy idea? 

A coffee-shop interaction?

Something I said on Zoom? 

Stories I’ve heard? Places I’ve seen?

The blank page and blinking cursor threaten me like a ticking time bomb—anxiety and self-doubt bubble up. 

Frustration, too. 

Depending on my will to fight through these emotional roadblocks, I’ll either persevere or, more likely, close the laptop in defeat. Promising myself a better showing tomorrow while I slink off to bed, lamenting my impotence of ideas.

I’ve found the best thing to do in such situations is to write. Write freely and loosely. I start typing and see where the lines take me. There’s always the chance I unearth something fantastical and altogether gratifying—a piece for the personal archives. 

Or it ends up being the same ego-drenched drivel I store away in an overflowing Google Drive folder filled with fatigued prose and half-eaten ideas. 

But either way, I have my words—more words than I had yesterday and more words than if I had closed the laptop.  

It’s a Hail Mary, in a way. As I lunk my fingers across the keyboard, I pray that they pop the creative blocker in my head and free some nugget of an idea I can explore for a good yarn. 

It doesn’t have to be a whole nugget. Any half-baked seed of an idea can be a fruitful area to explore when you’re typing for typing’s sake. 

It works. Don’t ask me how. I know because here we are now, at the end of a 600-word-ish post that I didn’t have a damned idea of writing before I opened this doc. 

Is it any good? Probably not. But deadlines need to be met. Even if a few days or weeks later than intended. 

And besides, I must’ve done something right if you’ve read this far. 

Grand ideas be damned. You, my good friend, just made it to the end of a post about not much at all. 

Meanwhile, I’m still trying to think of a clever idea.

Maybe next week…

---

Speaking of clever ideas, I wonder who came up with the genius idea to add a ‘like’ button on social media?

That little heart-shaped icon has become the de facto measure of online success. And if you think I’m above it, think again.

So if you enjoyed the last minute or two reading this post, why not tickle that button until it turns red. It all helps.

I’m not sure how but it does.

*chef’s kiss*

Allan

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