Other than blogging, I haven't written in weeks, maybe months.
It's starting to get to me. It's my stress relief. It's my creative outlet. It's my happy place. And I haven't visited in far too long.
But it's been so long, I don't know where I was or how to get back or even how to get started. I still have my ideas, my notes and all that mumbo jumbo. But I don't have it loud and screaming in my head making the story unfold as I write. It's more like a whisper of 'hey this and this and this could happen, the end'. I have no umph behind it, no personality no nothing.
This is totally normal for me; this is why I have over 50 stories lying around half finished.
This is also why I've been writing for over 16 years with nothing finished.
And why I still wonder if I'm capable of ever finishing a book.
But it's still something I want to do, and it's still something I'm trying to do. I may have to go 100 stories before I actually finish one...I guess then I'd have plenty of material for the next book to choose from IF I can pick up where I left off on one.
I'm so sidetracked and OCD stressed right now, it's impossible for me to really write. I'm sure that once this whole house selling BS is out of the way I'll be able to get back to work. Let's just hope that the house and land get sold ASAP, and we don't miss out on the beauty of Savannah while we wait.