Ha. Ha. It ain’t no party, this writer’s block thing. I don’t suppose whining about it is productive, either, but there’s something to be said for sharing the angst with other writers. Thus the party, right?
I’ll bring the whine.
This round of blockage is courtesy of too many things on my plate, both emotional and long lists of tasks. My father’s recent illness and death, a huge and on-going de-cluttering project (how in the world have we accumulated so much stuff?), demands at the office. It weighs down the creative soul. Or maybe I’m just afraid of what might come out of the pen, so I put it down.
The solution is to write anyway. At least that’s what my writer-friends tell me.
Write. Even if it’s crap. It’s still writing, and then maybe something good will come of it. I’m hopeful, anyway.
I’m still blocked. I’m still writing. And I’m still hopeful.
That seems to be the story of our life, too: “How in the world did we accumulate so much stuff?” Quite a bit of it is in the form of paper, too, such as short stories I can use for writing prompts. 🙂
My sympathies about your Dad. That would knock me out of writing mode, too.
Thanks for your kind words. I’m working my way back. The clutter, however, HAS GOT TO GO!
Ive said that, too — and even made some progress! One item at a time. 🙂 It’s often the things that come from someone else that are the hardest to deal with, like Mom’s crocheted doilies….