So, this is going to be a little bit of a different kind of blog post, so get ready. Ahem.

I sat down the other day with a notebook to write and get my creative juices flowing, but I just was in such a funk.

Writer’s block is no joke, okay? I was struggling. 

I was stressed about work. I was lonely. 

When I’m in one of my funks, because I live by myself, it’s not like there are umpteen people around to cheer me up or distract me, and I don’t like to “burden” my friends with an “I’m in a funk right now, help me get out of it” text message.

So, I broke it down to the simplest writing prompt I ever learned: start a list of things that give you joy. What makes you happy, what makes you smile.
Start there, and your mood will improve enormously. 

I hadn’t written a response to this prompt in a while, but I want to include part of my list here in this blog post. You know, in case one of you guys needed cheering up like I did.  

So anyway, here goes. 

The seemingly endless possibilities of a sunny Friday afternoon.

The smell of sticky shoulders after sunscreen.

Freckles. Chocolate. My friends’ laughs. 

A fresh haircut, and the little shake we do when the stylist removes our cape.

Spring peepers. Fresh laundry.

Slowly sinking ankle-deep into wet sand at the seashore. 

Braids. Smoothies. 

The weathered wood porches of old pastel beach houses.

Sleep shirts, loved into softness. 

Puppy noses. When babies grab my finger. 

Gin and tonics on the back deck with Grandpap and his skeleton drink-stirrer. 

A new Cosmo in my mailbox. Above-the-cover naps with the window open.

My front porch swing. 

A brand new pen. A fresh cobalt manicure.

Freshly-shaved legs. Fuzzy socks.

The sound of my mom singing along to old songs she loves. 

The smell right before it rains.

The smell of rain.

The smell of the air right after it rains, and the distant rumble of thunder waving goodbye. 

Waiting on the hot brick of the front stoop, waiting for Dad to get home from work. 

The hum of my ceiling fan. Hammocks. Egg rolls. Tie dye. 

Super Soakers. Wet feet pattering across the pavement as we help Dad wash his truck.

The metallic taste of garden-hose water. 

The song of wind chimes. Clean sheets. Pianos. Men’s cologne. Convertibles. 

The acoustic quality of a big bathroom. 

Fluffy robes and deserted hotel hallways. 

My reflection on the ceiling of the elevator. The smell of incense. 

Toddlers in Mary-Janes. Recognizing the song blaring from a Jeep that just drove by. 

When dogs tilt their heads like they’re trying to understand you. 

Food trucks. When all of the ice cubes come neatly out of the tray.

Truck drivers that honk when you pump your arm. 

The frogs in my yard that let me pick them up and stroke their heads with my finger. 

Blind dogs that still know my voice. A good back scratch. Designated drivers.

When Mom and I are laughing so hard on the phone that neither of us are making any sounds.

Queso. Dad hugs. Red lipstick. Iced tea in the lazy days of August. 

Finding a sequined dress at the thrift store. The reverence of art galleries. 

China tea sets. Reese’s cups, the big ones, the ones that melt fast. 

The softness of my own hips.

Rollerblades. Whipped cream. When babies have only one tooth.

Successful tick checks. Leather jackets. Child’s Pose. Gossip Girl.

Spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. 

Starting a poem.

Finishing a poem. 

Blowing on a dandelion. Toe rings. The moles on my arms. 

Irish drinking songs. Getting the mail barefoot. 

Pippi Longstocking. Country music done by men. Rap music done by women. 

Daisies. The hot, sticky, smoky smell of amusement parks. S’mores. 

The more I wrote, the more things I thought of that made me happy. I couldn’t write fast enough.

If you’re in need of a mood boost, I suggest you pull out a pen and paper and start writing. Come up with one or two, and the others will follow. 

If anything, it’s sure to stir up a smile.