I can't write unless or, I don't know, until my head listens to itself or my heart or the subtle scratching at the door that says to line up my words and march them through my fingers and out into the fresh air. When I don't write it's as if I'm sitting a child in the corner and ignoring her completely. For days, weeks, or in this case over a year. Poor ignored child sitting in the corner. Let's get her out, shall we?