Today I am bound and determined to get
SOMETHING down on paper for my final piece for my Creative Writing course. The subject of my piece will be a creative fiction story that revolves around the ghosts that live within the family-owned Woolen Mill. I have mulled over it for days, to no avail. I talked to family members to try and get some creative juices flowing about the subject. I had hoped for some great insite. At this point, I have received a history of the mill with some tid-bits about ghosts. One thing is for sure though, the mill is haunted, and there could be a fun story about it. The problem is, I am the one who has to come up with the story. Grrr!
I wish so bad that I could open that chamber in my brain that holds all of the great stories. I feel as if it is locked and I am constantly, frantically, searching for the key to open it up. There must be a window open, because I occasionally catch a breeze of inspiration. But that's it, a breeze.
