So… today is Sunday and I spent the day at work. Normally my week starts on Monday, so now I can’t tell if it feels like a weekend or a weekday, but at the moment my mind is running dry. I’ve been trying to come up with a story or a bit of poetry, but I seem to have frozen up. The writer’s version of stage fright, which is in fact half a lie.
This is kind of rare for me. A lot of the time I can collect a couple of ideas and run off, do a set of haiku or flash fiction, and despite all the drafts I have amassed (blog queue, old phone, not-old phone, notepads all over the place and one million sticky notes) I don’t have much inspiration right now. I’m sleepy, and yet I can’t bring myself to omit the blog in my nightly routine. Somewhere along the way I drilled into the habit of writing every night.
Just now I wandered off to do a piece of creative writing. I wrote six, seven words and stared at the hateful little cursor. It wasn’t speaking to me, so I saved it as yet another draft. There’s 42 in queue, just waiting.
Oh, and the secret thing is drawing nearer.