I’m not sure whether you noticed or not, but it’s been fairly quiet on the writing front lately. A large part of that is that I’m in heavy editing mode. However, a more pertinent reason is that I simply haven’t been able to write. I won’t excuse myself with anything so expected as writers block. It isn’t a dearth of ideas that has me stumped and unmoving in front of my computer screen. I have ideas leaking out of my pores.
No, it’s simply the frailty of my physical constitution. After a long dreary day of work, I simply can’t stay awake long enough to type anything remotely meaningful. Whatever words I’ve managed to eke out in sheer desperation usually ended up deleted the next day once I’ve read it again in a clearer frame of mind, one clear enough to be horrified by the noxious dribble I’ve created.
It’s rather frustrating to realize a week, then another, and another have gone by with nothing productive to show of it. And the more time that goes by, the more overwhelmed and behind I feel, the less I want to start. Because all I see stretching before me is an almost-infinite abyss of work.
Procrastination, my friend, is a terrible creeping predator. I fear I have a battle ahead of me.
Once more into the fray.