I have got a serious case of writer block. Maybe even more than lock, I’ve got total writer’s apathy. I don’t want to write, edit, review or even read a book anymore. This from the girl who put out three books in one year. And they sit now in on my hard drive collecting imaginary dust.
It’s a damn shame.
What happened to my mind, that beautiful imagination and that ability to work all day long on painting stories with words? Where are the days were I couldn’t go to bed until I finished a chapter. When, with tears in my eyes, I closed the cover on one book only to open a new document and begin the story again? Where’s the spark from telling stories?
I have a ritual when I begin a book. Thankfully, it still excites me in a way I guess only a fellow writer would understand. When I first open that blank page in Word, I set the margins, font, font size, line spacing and indent. I do it that order too. It’s like turning the tumblers on a safe; opening the combination to get to the story inside. As I’m doing this seemingly mundane thing…Times New Roman, 12 point…I’ve got butterflies. Literal butterflies. I’m that excited to start writing.
I do good for a few pages, maybe five to ten, and it’s flowing and I’m happy and in my head, I’ve got the book all laid out. I know what’s going to happen and even how it’s going to end. I’m so excited. I’m ready. I’m back!
And then it all goes to shit.
I lose track of the plot, the characters, even the general idea of the story. Soon, it’s just another few wasted pages sitting alone in the guts of my laptop. Sad, really…so many good ideas…so many wasted.
But hey, it’s early yet, only February, maybe this year I’ll kick start my writing and actually get something done. And who knows, maybe in a month or two, I’ll be telling you where to find my debut novel!
Here’s to writing more novels!