August is almost over and I have written nothing.
In my head, I’ve written things. Just not on paper. The thought of taking a pencil and writing something down just seems insurmountable. Like now, Tesfa is catching caterpillars in the yard and I could write fiction, but instead I half read my book and read message boards on the internet. A break would be good if afterwards I felt refreshed and eager to get back into the writing fray.
But I don’t. I don’t feel excited about writing at all.
I should finish my July story and start my August one. I should wrap up the faerie story, even if the ending is as sour as a lemon. I should do a bunch of writing exercises to write something new.
But I don’t.
I guess I’m a writer who doesn’t write right now. And I feel pretty pathetic.