Stop Trying to Grow Grapes!

I stared at the blank screen for forty-five minutes.

Not because I had nothing to say. I'm a writer. I always have something to say. Just ask my husband. No, the problem was that I was trying too hard. I was forcing it. I was sitting there with my knuckles white, my jaw tight, and my brain in a full-on wrestling match with itself, willing the words to appear. And the harder I pushed, the emptier that screen looked. The cursor just blinked at me. Slowly. Mockingly.

Does anyone else feel personally attacked by a blinking cursor? Just me? Okay. Good to know.

Here's what I've learned after writing more than thirty books: you cannot force good writing. You can sit at the desk, but the moment you start straining and striving and white-knuckling the keyboard, the words dry up.