How does one start. Some switch on the plug and start typing, some just take a smoke, some wait for the darkness to fall, while others add a litle fuel to their systems. Somebody said a long time back and said it so correctly, that starting is not the problem, reaching the destination is.
To start is like the millions of things that we as humans do, but personal findings suggest that the fuel is very expensive and of scarce availability to continue.
And one just cant start writing. No writers' block, it is the start. Trying tricks, not one but many, yet he falters in his attempts, wondering at the ingenuity of those who churn out a thousand references in their single lifetimes, all so very mystical -this job of writing, of quality writing. It is similar to scorning a housewife for doing negligent work but failing abysmally as you start doing it yourself, similar is the tryst with writing. A sputtering old diesel engine would do better.. We are on and then off and then on again, yet never fully running to full capacity.
Budding writers are all sputtering, ramshacled engines. Nowehere to go, nothing to do, nothing in sight and nothing feels right.