Halfway into a month of daily blogging and every day has been different. Some days it's easy: a topic is ready and waiting as soon as I wake up, and it takes shape during the day, words coagulating into sentences, sentences into paragraphs that I write and re-write in my mind as I make my way around the city. Then again, some days I wake up without an idea, when I sit down to write at nine-thirty at night I stare at the screen for twenty minutes to no avail.
Today I'm somewhere in between. I've got plenty of ideas but nothing to tie them together – I've been writing (and re-writing) for more than an hour as the ideas come and go, flashy as goldfish and just as quick to disappear. I'm tired, and the wind just picked up; I can hear the rain lashing down outside and the inevitable sirens that seem to accompany every spate of bad weather. Somewhere behind the clouds the full moon is exerting its power.
There's always tomorrow. I'll get a net.