Last night I had writer’s block

by madiwelch

in a serious way. Not like “Shoot, I’ve procrastinated this paper and now I’m stressed about writing it.” No, more like, “Shoot, I’ve procrastinated this paper and now I’m so stressed about writing it that I’m counting down how many hours until it’s due over and over again instead of putting any words on this awful blank page.”

It was bad. I had ideas but couldn’t focus them, I had a quasi-thesis that definitely left much to be desired, and I had exactly one paragraph of vague content (with good grammar, at least I had that going).

Luckily, I’m married to a liar who claims he can’t write. The man sat me down, listened to my ideas (slash issues), helped put my thesis into words, then threatened to tickle me if I didn’t start writing in five seconds. It worked, and this morning I turned in a lovely paper that I felt proud of, despite my rough start.

Thank goodness for helpful husbands.

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