I woke. I ran. I stretched (viruous, wasn't I?), I showered under the garden hose; I loaded and unloaded the washing macine (twice); I read (Bryson's Shakespeare. Couldn't put it down); I slept on the couch; I ate a tuna salad; and I edited reams and reams of stuff.
What the hell ever happened to WRITING?
If I were to dare open the file, I think I'd find the last story (that's new fiction) I worked on happened about 6 months ago. It's only half way through (!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - writer's frustration depicted by illegal use of multiple ! marks). It's far from finished (!!!!!!!!!!!!). It's bugging me (!!!!!!!!!!) and yet I just can't get to it.
Sigh. So this is writer's block?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment