Junkyard Mind

My brain has become a rusty scrapyard. There’s no movement besides the occasional tumbleweed rolling through. And this is really inconvenient, because I need to find something to write about.

Every month, I’m scheduled to send one 600ish word column to my local newspaper. The subject can be literally anything under the sun: the editor only asks that it be “a reprieve from politics.”

Easy enough, right? For someone who enjoys writing as much as I do, it should be a piece of cake. Well … it’s not.

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