A Writer's Life

     There is a fundamental question that goes through the minds of all writers every moment that they live.  It is the guide by which they live, and it consumes that life.  That question is, What am I going to write about? 
     A writer's life is to write, and sometimes the ideas don't come.  On the other hand, sometimes you just can't turn them off.  They are all around you, flooding your brain to the point that you can't sleep or carry on a decent conversation.  I remember telling my publisher that I could do a story about a blank piece of paper.      
     People that I know can always see when I am trying to work out a story in my brain.  They recognize the blank stare and the talking directly to me with no answer from me.  I have had some interesting stuff thrown at me or done to me to get my attention when I am with someone. Thursday, it was a dozen Titleist golf balls, thrown softly at me by the golf buddies I was playing the round with that day.  Don't worry, they missed my head by only inches.  Steve has always been a bad shot, or so the incident report said.  He's a policeman by the way.
     OK, this was not one of my normal posts in that I didn't have you rolling on the floor with laughter.  I guess what I will have to do is to inject my sense of humor here, and ask you one of my questions for the ages.  Here goes.  What do you call an airplane that is not painted and takes off from Lincoln, Nebraska?  That ought to be simple, give up?  It is a plain plane that takes off from the plain.  Bad, I know, but what can you do with such short notice.  Besides, I had to free up space in a hurry and ignore all those ideas for stories that are dancing in and out of my small brain.