Well, life has really thrown a lot of stuff at me lately. All of them are things experienced by other people as well – but when it’s you, you think that it is somehow different; you got the hard version of whatever it is.
I’m not going to blather on about all of that though, I’m just going to say that it has disrupted my writing quite a bit, and it seems that when I’m not writing my brain shuts down all together and I stop making thoughts, or ideas, or sense.
The causes are normal, but the predicament is not. I feel like this blogging has to be kept going, (I still feel like a newbie even though I have been doing it for a while now), but how do I do that with an empty mind. I should point out that this is not writers’ block, but just lack of time to get down to any serious writing: I want to write, I just don’t have the window of opportunity, and when I don’t write I feel different – less productive in every element of my life.
I think that might be one of the main reasons why I have to make up stories – so I have something else to think about. I use them to focus all of my worries upon, worries that would otherwise be put onto me instead of my fictional characters. But now the stories are not being allowed the time to breathe, my worries are back on me, instead of my characters. Bugger.
Oh well; my good Lady Time will surely make herself available to me again soon, and life will again be being translated into paragraphs and sentences and clauses, and the whole thing will have sorted itself out:
Then I might be able to write something of some use.
Nice one if you read it. If not: I don’t blame you.