A few weeks ago, after a rather rigorous therapy session, I came home in a very contemplative mood.  I’d been feeling blocked in my writing for a few weeks, since before Christmas at least, and so I had rummaged through some life events with My Therapist. 
We searched my mind’s attic looking for some treasure we might dust off and take to the psychological equivalent of Antique Roadshow.  I offered up a few memorable/traumatic/life changing possibilities from the past 49 years, but even after polishing a few of these babies up, nothing really stuck out for either of us.  
I came home ready to rummage more thoroughly.  I could feel, as I often do when I get introspective, those creative juices welling up.  I knew then that even though I wasn’t getting any writing done, I still felt that urge to create, to make something.
I started making books quite a few years ago, as a frustrated writer.  And since then, I’ve done many wild projects, even one that  compelled me to rip up my childhood bible and turn it into something much more relevant: My views on religion.
I made one book that was an A-Z guide to mental breakdowns and crazy writers. Another one, a gift for a friend, reflected my take on the 12 Steps.  Pretty much nothing is sacred when I wield my Xacto knife and my straight edge.

I sat down and started flipping through my new picture book of handmade books—over 1000 pictures of amazing books made by wonderful artists.  Every time I thumbed through my book books (weird, right?) I found something new.  

This time, a homemade Monopoly game caught my attention.  I jumped up (honestly) and ran to the Casa Durberg Art Wing muttering Pamopoly, Pamopoly, Pamopoly.  I needed to make my own version of this classic game.  So I did. It turned out pretty cool. I’m still working out some strategy details and refining the play, but I played with writer friends last night and we had a pretty good time.

3 thoughts on “Pamopoly

  1. Brilliantly productive way to overcome writer's block. And look, you wrote a terrific blog post about it. Love the idea of dusting off the crap in your mind's attic. Now, go forth and write your book!

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