Thereโs a blank page before me and, damn it, if I donโt blame Lin-Manuel Miranda.
โItโs like the drip, drip, drip thatโll never stop.โ
โEncanto.โ โHamilton.โ Something to take your mind off the writing, she said. I watch and I hear the words of Lin-Manuel and I stew and the next morn comes and the day is still gray.
โRise up.โ
My mind doesnโt stop now. Itโs an endless loop of Lin-Manuel and his rhythm.
โRise up.โ
Again, Lin-Manuel, get out of my head.
โRise up.โ
The blank page awaits. I try morning, then noon, then night. But the words still donโt come.
โOh, no. We donโt talk about Bruno.โ
Rhyme after rhyme fills my head. But my words do not come. Not the words that Lin-Manuel Miranda writes. So creative. So talented. So damn good.
Yet, all I have is the blank page and Lin-Manuel in my head.
โIโm willing to wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for it.โ

NOTE: The above work came from a writing prompt presented during a recent Pen to Paper Live session hosted by the Charlotte Lit organization. You can register here. In the session, presenter Kathie Collins offered a writing prompt taken from a recent workshop led by poet Jessica Jacobs. We were challenged to try some layered writing in which we’d use some metaphors, physical objects, paintings, etc. to connect an experience we were feeling.