Writer's Block
Day two. Still nothing.
I sit, like Neil Gaiman, before a blank screen, writing 'and', staring at it for an hour, slowly deleting it, letter by letter, and replacing it with 'the'.
This gets me depressed, which gets me dwelling on the other less-than-ideal parts of my life, which none of you want to hear about. I don't even want to hear about them.
But I'm stuck. I've got two stories started, and dammit, I need to finish them. I just...can't, because I don't know what happens next.
The NFL draft is a boring, boring affair that I just can't look away from.
I sit, like Neil Gaiman, before a blank screen, writing 'and', staring at it for an hour, slowly deleting it, letter by letter, and replacing it with 'the'.
This gets me depressed, which gets me dwelling on the other less-than-ideal parts of my life, which none of you want to hear about. I don't even want to hear about them.
But I'm stuck. I've got two stories started, and dammit, I need to finish them. I just...can't, because I don't know what happens next.
The NFL draft is a boring, boring affair that I just can't look away from.