Two projects in editing, and the short story of the week only partially written, and it seems my brain is in shutdown. That’s it. Nothing left. Just a big black dark space. Black Hole. Just like the one on the left there.
I tried cruising pictures that might inspire me, poked at some old writing to see if there was anything there worth flying with, and now I’m writing a blog post to avoid writing. I even stared at pictures of Tom Mison, including that one, down there. *points*
Yum. Tom Mison. Help me, Ichabod Crane! Break this curse and let me write again! What? Stop staring at you and go write something? Don’t you think I’ve TRIED that? Go back to saving the world from the apocalypse or something.
Maybe I need sleep. Maybe I need food. Maybe I need sleep and then food? Who knows. I don’t. I know all the ‘writer’s block’ tricks. Free association writing? Not working. Wasted fifteen minutes producing words about bananas. Go for a walk? Did that. Ankle hurts now. Soak in the tub? Starlit hot tub soak! Check. Still nothing.
I think this is where Hemingway reaches for his bottle of whiskey and Poe reaches for his opium. Maybe I need opium. Hell, I don’t even know where to get opium, and wouldn’t know what to do with it if I had it.
Someone on another site suggested going shopping. Not actually buying anything, but window-shopping, people observing, just cruising the mall or the main-street shops to ‘gather ideas’. I am at my kitchen table in my raggedy t-shirt and sweat-shorts, but hey, shopping sounds good, and if there’s one thing the internet is good for, it’s shopping!