The last few days have been a lot of staring into space for me. My writing time thus far today has consisted of a lot of picking at my fingernails in the library and questioning everything I’ve written so far. That and two crummy paragraphs that couldn’t even hold my attention.
I’m in a bad way. Lately, I can’t get my mind out of politics and plot points. They’re important topics to me, don’t get me wrong, but they’re not what is going to put words on a page.
I need to write. I need to cut my fingernails because they’re jagged stumps that I can’t stop playing with and I need to write.
So I’m heading to an internet-free zone to make myself a cup of coffee, cut my nails, flesh out a few characters and get 1,000 words done by the end of the day or else.
I said “Or else” when I got to the library today. “You’re not leaving this spot until you get a few good scenes written or else!” Now I’m leaving with questionable ramblings.
Oh, where is that creative energy that consumed me at the start of this project!? I wish I could just go back to that. When the words wouldn’t stop flowing through me. Now they won’t start!
I hate that version of me that sat there typing me into this corner. What have I done to my story?