No freewrite Friday. The brain is jammed up. I’m working through the novel issues but lately the words haven’t been coming as I like. Bad inputs have to be part of the problem, along with attitude. These are things I can and am in the process of correcting.
when I was small, I believed I could write entire novels in one sitting. The stories were so close to the surface that it felt like they’d tear feee of me if I didn’t write them down fast enough. Largely that feeling is gone, a memory of days and nights devoted to little more than creative thinking and joy. Life wears us down. Work wears us down. People wear through our skin until we are tough no more. All of these things combine to take us further from that space where the words are waiting.
this too is what it means to be a writer.
what do you do? I don’t know. I’m learning. I’m dealing. This is not writers block. This is writers wear and tear and the aging brain of a slowly withering man.
this does not have to be what it means to be a writer. There is always a better way waiting to be uncovered.