Writer’s Block

View from the ranch at Texas Writer’s Retreat

Writer’s block. We’ve all experienced it, and chances are we will again. But just remember, it’s a block, not a wall. Blocks can be jumped over, moved, or built upon.

While attending (that seems such a formal word for such casual, intimate gathering of writers) the Texas Writer’s Retreat a week ago, I had the opportunity to get to know John Grogan, author of international bestseller Marley & Me, and The Longest Trip Home. I’m always surprised when I meet  people who have a certain celebrity status because, more often than not, they are just normal people – well as normal as writer’s can be. 🙂 And John was no different. Very down to earth and full of great stories.

Over several dinners and glasses of wine, John shared some of his insights on writing. He encouraged us all to read an essay in The New Yorker by John McPhee, Draft No. 4. The essay gives a great tip for dealing with writer’s block. I won’t spoil it here because it’s well worth the read.

More than anything, just keep writing.





It’s hard to ignore a sign when the Universe displays it so brilliantly. Today is the day that I start some new practices that will propel me forward in my writing. So when I saw this rainbow (and actually it was a full double rainbow) how could I not see it as a sign that I am on the right path?

Peace, Ginger



Previous post from July 6, 2016

*I’m reposting this because I find that I have come full circle, once again, back to this place of intention where I question who I am and what I have to offer. This place I know so well because it accompanies an longtime acquaintance of mine, depression. When I am here, I recognize things – unsettledness, unquietness, an uneasiness that permeates me to the core. And in this discord, I find my mind wandering erratically from one thought to another and back again. And as I sat here tonight working on my new blog – an attempt at answering that question what do I have to offer? – I was reminded of this post and found it to be relevant. So perhaps it is that my depression comes calling when I have need to allow myself to wander again. 

Intention: the thing that you plan to do or achieve; an aim or purpose. The opposite of which is aimlessness, avoidance, thoughtlessness.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about intention.. What things do I do with intention, and why? For example, in yoga class, prior to beginning practice, it is encouraged to set an intention – a reason to be, a reason to do. Intention gives meaning and purpose to tasks that might otherwise have none.

But I’ve been wondering if maybe things are too intent-driven these days. In our society it seems that everything circles a target, a place to get, a place to be, a purpose. So what happens when we set our intentions aside and simply let ourselves be?

If intention is aim or purpose, then the opposite would be allowing ourselves, and our minds to wander. What happens when we allow ourselves to wander without intent? I believe that we become open to so much more.

Intention focuses our gaze, directs our path, leads us. Without it we wander and explore openly all that is around us. We neither lead, nor are we led. We follow that which calls to us, no matter what the that might be. In doing so we become open and wide-eyed, child-like and curious.

When you were a child and you went exploring whether it was in the woods, or in your backyard, chances are you didn’t have a “to find” list. Most likely you set out just because you were bored, or curious. I used to come home after a day of exploring my neighborhood, or yard with pebbles in the shape of hearts, rocks that had stars embedded in them, locust shells, or a crown made from clover. All things I would have missed had I been on a mission and not allowed myself simply to wander. I still do this today.

The same concept applies to our minds. We should allow ourselves time to daydream, to wander freely around the corners of our minds because it is there, behind the lists and lists of intentions that the real magic is waiting to be dusted off.

Intention promotes reasoning. Wandering promotes wondering. And I believe that it is in wandering that some of our greatest problems are solved, some of the best ideas conceived.

Consider this: You are much more likely to hit a target if you are aiming at it, right? But what about all of the other possibilities outside of that target? Say the bullseye is intention. There is only one. But radiating from that one single intention are so many other possibilities waiting to be discovered. And if we are focussed on that ONE intention, look how much we might miss. Is it worth it? The bullseye still remains, but we allow all other possibilities a chance to exist as well.

Is the world attempting to communicate with us in ways we aren’t even aware of? Does intention hinder our deeper senses? How much of the world is blind to us?

Which way will you go?