These days my head is full of writing ideas that will not translate into actual writing.
I want to but essentially can't be arsed.
I hate myself for it, writing is what I want to be doing more than anything and yet I'm not doing it.
I don't know what's holding me back, I often quote the lack of time being the problem but let's face it, even when I do have the time, the inclination is not often there.
I created a "space" in my new home for my writing but it is not just mine like I'd planned. I don't know where I can go that would be exclusively for me.
A big part of the problem (maybe?) is I don't think feel content but about what? Me, I guess.
I'm in a funk that is in no way funky in a good way. It sucks.
I keep telling myself, just sit down and write something, anything, it doesn't matter. Create a habit of spending time writing and eventually the good stuff will start to flow from your fingers onto the page.
I find myself not believing my own crappy advice.
I prefer to plonk myself in front of the tv and watch someone else's stories.
I should quit whining and be proactive but I've not got that far yet.
Life is just meh at the moment.