I had a wicked case of writer's block this past winter, which is hard to contend with since I don't believe in writer's block, gnomes or the use of curry. It's just one of those things people go on about all the time that I just can't tolerate. Now I am convinced that my long suffering this winter served a purpose. I now have a sure-fire cure for writer's block to share with my fellow sufferers and save us all from the pain of not being able to express ourselves in words.

How did I finally beat it to the ground and get the words to flow again?

I can hardly believe it myself. Exercise did it. I had been sloppin' around the house for weeks not being able to write anything, not quite knowing what to write about, not at all in touch with my inner... whatever.. but fully in touch with the bitchy woman that I've been mutating into lately. Slowly I wandered through the rooms of my house in my fluffy socks and sweat pants looking out the windows at the barren trees, feeling creatively empty. The kids ran around screaming and happily ignoring their grumpy, grumbling mom.

Now, I don't participate in any sort of exercise regimen. I don't really participate in anything that requires me to use the word regimen. I don't care for exercise much unless it's fun, like rockclimbing, hiking or riding a horse. Problem is, in the winter I don't ride much because (return to crankiness) it's just to damn cold here in the splendid northeast for me to go stand around a barn freezing my tush off trying to tack up Skippy the horse with frozen fingers.

So in an effort to end the misery of writer's block I decided to get on the eliptical training machine that my husband bought me years ago when I was feeling significantly similar to a sausage, like my skin was being pulled too tight over the fat I had accumulated over the first few years of our marriage and the birth of out first daughter. I had used it a bit back then out of desperation, until I discoved the time saving weight loss truth: Put down the fork. Step away from the table. That did the trick. Not much junk in the trunk these days.

After about fifteen minutes, something did a back flip in my head. Then there was another. And another. No, I wasn't having a stroke. My body wasn't going into shock from the sudden increase in movement. I had ideas. It had been so long I forgot what it felt like to have ideas flipping around in my mind and nagging me to try them out, to free them from the crowded space in there, to save them quickly before they slipped into the darkness. I could feel their fear of getting pushed aside, into the section of my mind where the admin password is a mystery, lost forever with the dark and twisty memories of my long repressed past.

So this has become my solution. And it is far healthier then pouring yet another cup of coffee and staring blank faced at the wall above my desk for a while before attempting to write again. I exercise. In little spurts. Until I start to feel clear minded (this can take a while at times) and then I can get going again and the words flow faster than my legs can go on the elliptical slimifier.

Slimifier isn't a word. I know. But when you feel the walls of writer's block come crashing down, you don't want to hold back. Not a thing. You want to let it all come out. And if you start creating your own vocabulary, so be it. It isn't the first time for me. Tolkien created an entirely new language for his elves (NOT gnomes) and he is obviously a genius, right? He is the only writer I have ever come across who could use flotsam and jetsam appropriately in the same book, but in different places without sounding obnoxious or annoying me.

Where are you reading this? Do you have stairs nearby? Go run up and down them for a while, till your legs hurt and you are panting and see what happens. Any new ideas? No stairs? Drop and give me 20 push-ups, or better yet, try to do 100 crunches. Nothing?

I bet you have one idea. At the very least you now feel inspired to leave me an incredibly creative and nasty message in the comments section telling me what a fake I am and how I don't know squat about writer's block. Go ahead. Let the words flow. And when you're done giving me a good lashing you'll be all set to get back to work.

Hey, it worked for me.

Now, what if you exercise all the time? Are you one of those oh I just love to exercise - I can't live without my daily workout, regimen loving types...stop exercising today. Just today. No workout. No sex. Nothing that feels physically gratifying. Suffer for your craft for 24 hours and see what happens. You'll be feeling all tied up in knots and need to let it out. Come on back and tell me how crappy you feel. Be colorful. I can take it.