blinky blank

There’s a difference between writer’s block and writer’s constipation. I have the latter. There are quite a few things I want to write, but every time I sit down, everything in my brain screeches to a halt. I’ve tried every trick I know and nothing’s worked. Fortunately I’ve been through this before. Unfortunately the only way I know to get through it is to let it run its course.

I have trouble doing even that, because then anxiety kicks up and makes me feel even more like a useless, worthless hack than I do otherwise, since I made the mistake of tying up a lot of my self-worth in my writing. I’m slowly untying that knot, but it’s not smoothed out yet. 

Until then: