I cleared my schedule, read my books that were waiting for me, ran errands like a crazy woman, all so I could use today to write. So here I sit, avoiding doing any such thing. What is wrong with me?
I don’t believe in writer’s block. I know I have other options besides writing, I could edit, plot, or a million other things that isn’t writing and yet I feel no compulsion to do any of it. Tomorrow if I accomplished nothing I will feel aggravated that I wasted my creative time on, well, nothing.
To alleviate my sense of frustration, what can I do in the meantime that can be at least partially productive? Maybe I could crack open some of my writing books to help me sort through what I want to do next. Yeah, that sounds productive enough that I shouldn’t curse at myself tomorrow.
Until I can figure out how to squeeze words from the sponge of my brain, I guess it’s time to but on my thinking cap and get some work done.
My inspiration strike my brain pan,