I was Supposed to be Writing a Novel
I wasn't supposed to start a blog. I was supposed to write a novel. And I think I forced myself to get distracted because I just can't get any ideas out of my head.
I don't know why. But when I think of the blog, I am getting a few ideas each day. I write these down. It's fine. Easy. And then when I turn my thoughts to fiction, I get ... nothing. Not a single idea. I can't force them out. I just stare at a blank text file and wait and nothing happens at all.
And so I return to the blog.
This isn't new. Writer's block is as old as time. But it's an interesting phenomenon for me because I am finally finding a time when I can get some writing done and there's just nothing in the tank at all. I was sure I had so many ideas that all I had to do was sit down and they would just flow out from my fingers through the keyboard and a novel or two would be done pretty quick. But that hasn't happened.
Instead, I feel stressed, anxious, can't stop cooking. Partly is the fact that time is a lie: I have no time. I have a few minutes here and there, but no big stretches of time. What time I do have is not usable: I'm either exhausted or asleep or on the toilet.
So perhaps my subconscious is telling me to cool it with the whole novel idea. Fiction can wait for a few weeks once the kids have gone back to school and the year has set up a bit of a flow.
In the meantime, there is this blog project. It's not even a project, not really. It's more of a journal. Just random ideas and thoughts and a bit of 'what happened today' thrown in. The good thing about this is I don't expect any eyeballs on my work. It's just thrown out into the world and abandoned, and that is very freeing. If nothing else, it is keeping the writing practice up so when I get a chance to actually get back to novels my fingers will know what to do.
And maybe this blog will brighten somebody else's day.