…is something I don’t really suffer from, but apparently it’s my turn. I can’t think what to write. My usual fall back is my current course book – but it’s the one thing I didn’t pack (Freud sabotaging me, I think!). I have managed a few blog posts on the family blog and a few emails but anything more fiction is gone.
So, I’m falling back on the old idea of writing anything, to stimulate more writing. If all else fails, write about writers’ block.
I’ve been wandering around my new house, wondering what to do. Without all the distractions of normal life, I thought I would just write, or at least read, but actually, I just look for things to do. A cup. I’ll wash it up. I don’t go round and get them all, so I don’t have the satisfaction of having completed a task! The headphone wires are tangled. Five wasted minutes gaining two centimetres of wire. Maybe I should alphabetise my books… This really isn’t like me at all. I’m either full of energy and very focused or a complete slob watching whole series like Fringe, back to back, only getting up for essential breaks and short sleeps.
Tomorrow, I’m going to work from my writing fiction book and read 10 pages of my critical writing book. That at least will stop me wandering about. And I’ll clean the kitchen up properly, instead of just moving the crumbs around and watching the tea stains develop.