Stream of consciousness writing. Write, write and write some more. If I sit and think about something to write about, the stark white, blank page will remain, glaring in front of me on my monitor, saying, “Give up! Give up! You can’t write!” Big rat that it is, leering at me with its beady little eyes, I pick it up by its long, skinny, hard-to-hold tail and drop it into my jar of negative voices. And then, as all the other negative little rodents scream at me from the jar – Bam! I close the lid and all I can see are their grotesque little faces. There. Finished.
Now I can write. Not think. Just write.