It's now nearly December and I haven't written a word of the two term papers demanded by my graduate classes. Oh, I've written--I have pages of scribbled notes, little yellow sticky-papers mark choice passages in a stack of books, and a pile of photocopies is filled with asterisks and double-underlining. But straightforward, intentional production of relevant ideas on paper has so far escaped me. It's the old problem again, not yet shed despite my halting attempts at self-analysis and purposeful distraction. I just can't seem to connect the buzz of ideas in my head with the process of writing. If you asked me to talk about the synthesis of post-structuralism and Marxism in feminist thought, or about the difficulties Kantian ethics has with "grey areas" in morality, I could go on for some time. I think I'd even sound intelligent. But somewhere, a crucial link is broken. I sit and stare at an empty computer screen. I go to a cafe and sit over a bottomless cup of coffee, and the blankess of my ruled notebook assaults my mind until I find myself on the edge of crying. What is wrong with me? Why can't I write? What do I need to do?