Her creative mind sat quietly empty.
Some days ideas had poured from her mind on to the page, multiple stories emerging at once, fighting for attention. Other days she sat with a blank stare and slumped shoulders, trying to coax out the ideas that she knew satS in the tightest of corners.
She wondered if any new ideas would ever form, felt a sense of panic begin to take root.
Then she thought of plants in winter, dying back to seemingly nothing.
So she planted some seeds in her mind, knowing that one day they would grow into something beautiful.
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