Writing is a Frustrating Art

I sometimes feel frustrated beyond belief.
 I want to write. I want to share.
 I don't want to write. I don't want to share.
I want a subject to appear with ideas around it, so that all I have to do is rearrange the words and the blog post will be complete and beautiful. To every one. Including me.
Do you feel that way? Are the rats in the attic just scurrying around and scuffling with each other?

                                               
Does your mind feel like this? Mine does.

Then I sit down and stare at a blank page and wonder where all the rats went. Surely they left behind something for me to chew on. A biscuit. A crumb.

A crumb.

 There is always something left behind that can fuel your imagination. You just have to let it. You cannot force the words. You need to let them scurry from place to place and finally, one will scurry into the corner and you can capture it. Then all you have to do is capture another one. Some days, you have to let them all go and start over.

My friends, here is to crumbs. Come back and see which ones I have found and what kind of mixture I made with it.