Let’s call it seven hours.
That’s how much time I’ve spent in the last few weeks sitting at the computer, hands on the keyboard, trying to get words out of my head and into an outline, into a story. And nothing’s coming out. Nothing. Not a damned thing.
Yesterday morning was a perfect opportunity: Quiet, alone, no chores, no work, just me and the word processor. I wasn’t even playing music. Nothing. Not a damned thing. From 9:30 to 12:00 I did nothing. And that was just yesterday.
I can’t do it. All of this glorious “I’m going to write something!” and, no, apparently I am most assuredly not.
So… now what? The comic’s over. I can’t write. I’m not actually a good photographer. I’m terrible at working with tools so building & crafting are right out.
I guess I’m just a worker drone and passive consumer from here on out.