For the last few weeks I've been having a bit of difficulty writing, so I've been leaning on putting together that bible I was telling you about as well as editing on something else. It's unusual for me because writing always comes easy. I sit down and let it flow out of me. Sometimes I'll stop and ponder, but that doesn't happen very often.
Even the Zimventures kind of got clogged up on me. It took me a few days to figure out where that was going, and once I worked it out it came pretty easily. But there's a novella I'm working on that just won't come out of me. It's like having painful intestinal pressure where you're certain you need to shit, but nothing comes out no matter how much you strain.
Writing is usually easy because I meditate. I used to go out for long walks and get a lot of thinking done, but that's off the table now due to my bad leg. Now meditating takes the brunt, but even that's not working. I think the problem is, I didn't know what I was trying to say with the piece. I usually know that when I start a project, and if I don't, then it works itself out while I'm writing. And this one wasn't doing that.
Yesterday I figured out what I was trying to say, but the writing still didn't come easy then or today. I think I'm burned out. That's the only explanation. I write a lot, so maybe I need to take a step back for a little bit and let things simmer.
So that's what I'm going to do, and that includes Goodnight, Fuckers. I'm going to see if I can go a week without writing anything. I'll bet that recharges me. I'll bet that when I start writing again on the Monday after next, I'll be chomping at the bit. We shall see.
For now? Goodnight you sweet, sweet fuckers.
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