I want to write.

I mean, I am writing.  I write in this blog every day.  But I want to write more.  My kingdom for a job where I got to write every day.  Blog, write articles, something!

I’ve been working on a book for over two years now.  Well, by “working for over two years,” I mean I started it two years ago, had a whole story wall in sticky notes up on my apartment wall, and wrote almost every day for about a month.  Then I doodled notes in a journal for maybe nine months.

And then nothing.  No new notes.  No doodles.  Nada.  I’ve been blocked.

I miss my characters.  I miss laying down at night and dreaming up what they would say, where their story lines would take them, their relationships, their betrayals.  It was magic.  But that’s gone from my life, and I can’t figure out why.  Part of me thinks it just wasn’t a viable enough story, so it’s gone.  I had grand plans, but it just wasn’t well-formed enough to last.  Maybe I’ll return to it one day.

Something popped into my head last night.  Not nearly formed enough.  Just the wisps of an idea.  Felt very Bell Jar-esque, though.  I might work out the kinks and see where it leads me.  I’m liking the idea of chronicling what I’m going through in a more fictionalized way.  Too Sylvia Plath?  We’ll have to see.

I can’t believe I’m putting this out there.  But this blog is dedicated to my major thought of the day, and this has been it.  So there you have it.

If anyone has any suggestions for overcoming writer’s block, though, I’m very open to hearing them!  My brain, fingers, pen have been blocked for way too long.


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