This exercise has been less of an idea exchange for me, and more of a search for inspiration. The depth of my empty thoughts have been lost in dreary-eyed stares and hard-headed writer's block. Yet, here I sit. Staring. Staring.
I know what you're going through. It doesn't help that the spring sports season seems to be never ending. Without any rain outs this year, it's been hard to find time to get everything done.
Writing a novel, at times, feels just the same.
ReplyDeleteSome days I think, "Bloody hell. What are you doing? You're sitting here talking to yourself. You're daft, man." And it all seems for naught.
And some days I think, "Well there's a bit of magic in that scene. If I hadn't shown up, I'd have missed it."
And at the outset, I never know what kind of day it's going to be.
I know what you're going through. It doesn't help that the spring sports season seems to be never ending. Without any rain outs this year, it's been hard to find time to get everything done.
ReplyDelete