Some mornings I just sit and stare at that blank page.
I still write everything on a yellow legal pad with a number 2 pencil, everything except this blog, and some mornings putting pencil to page is like bench-pressing 300 pounds.
I get more coffee, I smoke another cigarette, I stare at the page.
By the end of the day the page is filled and others as well. Some of it survives and actually turns into something worth saving.
But the actual act of starting to write, some mornings it doesn't seem physically possible.
Ann regains the crown, or in her case the lampshade, and Rose joins her on the victory lap. Well done, ladies.