Along with Michael, I’m all out of writing sometimes. Read on and learn, fellow Fictioneers.
Sometimes I am all out of writing. There’s not an idea or a plot or a character in me. No story to tell, no cool idea for a pattern of words to convey, and no patterns like snowflakes of words to be dropped on pages or screens to melt unseen minds miraculous.
Sometimes I’m just sick of my own stupid cleverness. Sometimes I’m allergic to the alphabet.
At other times I want to write but can’t. That scenario is a bit different from the feeling of being word-sapped or language-sick. To happily want to do what I am unhappily unable to do is to shuttle between motivation and exhaustion (and not a few unnecessary adverbials).
It may seem oxymoronic, but I think most writers know the feeling only too well.
What do I do when I find myself the mouse in such cheeseless mazes? Do I invent my own cheese?…
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