Here’s my admission: I hate summer heat. Its probably because I was born in January and simply grew accustomed to winter birthdays. Hot, sweltering, blistering heat is not my idea of a good time. So believe me when I tell you, that when the thermometer outside my tiny office window reads 86 degrees, its probably 95 degrees inside the 7′ x 15′ room. And I am not enjoying it. 

“Why do I keep subjecting myself to this? This really isn’t the only room in the house, to write in?”

No, but this is where the magic always happens

Except tonight. Tonight, I got an unexpected visit from an old friend. His name is Writer S. Block. This jerk tends to show up at the most inopportune times. Whenever he’s around, I can literally feel my time being wasted, as I sit in front of my computer screen staring at a blank…