A huge case of Stuck-ish-ness has settled over me and has left me paralyzed, giving in to total slackitude.
While I sit butchering words by sticking 'ness' and 'ish' and 'tude' on the end of them, I am unable to generate any creative juices to complete a story I've been working on.
And by "working on", I mean a story that I started, spent 20 minutes writing and then abandoned, thinking perhaps it would finish itself.
It didn't. Rather selfish of it, if you ask me.
One side of my brain is desperately trying to convince the other side that this story writing stuff is utter foolishness. The practical side is working on closing off as many creative passageways as possible, so that it can keep from jeopardizing any remaining confidence I have left - a little self preservation for the old self-esteem.
The other side of the brain argues back that the real risk is imaginative stagnation, the death of creativity, if risks aren't embraced and taken for the wild ride they were meant to be.
I've started this post three or four times, erasing everything and starting over and over and over...
I forced myself to write this, because I felt the need to write something...anything.
The next argument I'll have with myself is over the contest entry fee and why I shouldn't send them money to tell me that I didn't even warrant a place.
I can do that myself: "Dear Self, you won't place. Save your money for fru-fru coffee."
I won't place because I haven't done what it takes to learn a craft that I'm not sure I have a desire to practice.
And am I not sure because I'm just afraid to try?
So, there ya go.
Today my brain seems to operate in fits and starts - blinking on and off like some Vegas marquee.
I really hate these days...when my body conspires against me, when it leaves my brain muddled and thoughts jumbled and has me struggling to figure out what I want to do and say.
Tomorrow will be better - I just know it.