This is writer's block for me: it's when your ideas turn to sand and slip through your fingers over and over again. When you can't sustain a story for longer than a few pages before you get bored of it. When this new reality makes your fingers freeze above the keyboard and a voice in your head whispers that you may never complete another book again.
I feel an urge to hide under the covers or walk until I can't walk any more. There are a couple of books I am tempted to write but they are so entwined in reality that I don't know if I have the heart to write them. Writing has to be fun. I need to enjoy myself or I won't make it to 100,000 words.
Professional writers turn up to their desks every day and write even if they write rubbish. As the saying goes, you can't edit a blank page. After two years without writing a single short story, I've started again. I even entered a 100-word short story competition the other day. I don't think you can get much shorter than that. It's an ongoing competition that's open to everyone.
It's very frustrating not having a project to work on but I have to trust the big idea will hit me in the face any minute now! If it doesn't, I'll go nuts!
I'm back in Mallorca. My brother is home and the doctor is confident the radiotherapy has been successful. He has been feeling pretty sick but hopefully he's over the worst. His journey has been pretty epic. I tell him it would make a great film. It has all the ingredients. Unexpected challenges and pain, unexpected love and joy. You can write it, he tells me. But even if I fictionalised the hell out of it, I don't know if I could...
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