I’m not the only person who’s sick of the garbage out on the internet, who’s busy training and not writing, who’s out and about instead of plopped down in front of the screen. I promise I’ll get back to it sometime, but I’m not sure when that will be in my case.
I’ll just come straight out with it: I am dealing with a wicked case of writer’s block. It’s been going on for about five or six months now, and it’s evident by the fact that my blog has been updated a handful of times in that time period. And it’s not because I’m writing up a storm elsewhere. In fact, aside from my job, I haven’t written anything more substantial than a status update in months.
For someone who has been writing since she was a kid – for someone who has constructed a large part of her identity around writing – this is not a pleasant place to be. In fact, it flat-out sucks. I joked on Twitter the other day about my wrist tattoo, which is the word “write,” and how having writer’s block means I am being shamed by my own wrist on a daily basis. That’s…
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