I was at a restaurant the other day with my partner when the wait turned into a longer ordeal than anticipated. I was not really surprised, as it was a new place. My first instinct happened to be leaving, too, but I didn’t want to be a spoilsport.

So we waited. We waited for a table, we waited for service, then we waited a ridiculous amount of time for mediocre food. Somewhere during the period between sitting down and getting served, I was asked why I wasn’t writing. There is always some sort of writing material on my person, even if it’s a cheap pen and a scrap of paper. I don’t feel right without it.

But do you know why I wasn’t writing? Because I was hungry. The old belly grumbled way too determinedly for me to focus on any kind of storytelling.

I thought that was a funny sort of blessing. Of all the big issues that plague countless poor, blocked artists, my issue happens to have been a very brief one with biology.

So, what stops you from writing or drawing or whatever it is that makes you feel personally productive? I doubt it’s your appetite for protein and carbohydrates. Do you suffer guilt over other things you think you “should” be doing? I say, go feed that creative hunger! Stop being a starving artist. Your whole being will thank you.