Welcome to the MuddyUm Writers Clinic
(Not associated with any California hotels)

On the M*d*um highway Laptop in my hand I was battling that writer's block I could not understand Up ahead in the distance Saw the MuddyUm light My pen grew heavy and my eyes felt crossed Not one word could I write
My mind was M*d*um Twisted I got the curation blues I wrote a lot of pretty, pretty words Yet not one could I use Though they danced in the corner Of my shimmering mind Publications spit my stories back And the muse was unkind
So I called for the doctor I said, "Bring me some wine." He said, "you haven't written decent copy here Since 1969." And still that sweet inspiration Is far away Then I stumbled onto MuddyUm And I heard them say
Welcome to the worn out writer's clinic It's just a writer's place We'd love to see your face We've plenty of words at the worn out writer's clinic When your writer lives Need some alibis
Shakespeare on the ceiling Faulkner's bourbon on ice He said, "we are all just prisoners here Seeking a plot device." "Relax," said Bukowski We are programmed to create. You can edit any time you want, And the gods might curate...
This post was inspired by the following MuddyUm post:






